The Doors Between Them
by Monker
Summary: When Pepper Potts is threatened and Stark is nowhere to be found, Agent Coulson opens up his home as a refuge to her. The agent didn't realize, however, that he would be opening himself up as well. Coulson/Pepper mainly, some Pepper/Tony as well. Movieverse. Set in between Ironman and Ironman 2. This is the story of how he came to be "Phil" with her. NOW COMPLETE
1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:** I realize this is an obscure pairing, but the more I have played around with it, the more I think it really works. In a world without Tony, I might argue that Pepper Potts and Phil Coulson belong together. Hopefully, this story might convince one or two of you of the same thing. This is my first time writing for Ironman, even though I have been a longtime fan of the franchise and have enjoyed many fine stories from other writers, so I would appreciate any feedback you would care to give me.

And a huge (read: COLOSSAL, CATEGORICAL, ETERNAL) thanks to my beta reader and frequent muse kaheels for proofing every chapter of this story and really helping mold this story into what it is today. Seriously, there's no question in my mind that this story would not be complete if it weren't for her consistent encouragement. So thank you, kaheels.

Needless to say, I hope you enjoy the story. Now...

Deep breath in...deep breath out...here we go!

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: The Meeting

"Agent Coulson?"

He rose from his seat upon hearing his name and turned towards the familiar voice. "Miss Potts," he greeted in return, outstretching his hand.

She took it, smiling at him brilliantly. "So sorry to keep you waiting."

He returned the smile with a dismissive shake of the head. "No need to apologize. Though, I _was_ expecting to meet with Mr. Stark today," he mildly observed.

"I know," she seemed apologetic. "I'm told that Tony is in transit this very moment returning from a meeting."

"A meeting?" Agent Coulson repeated. After several months of knowing Tony Stark, the representative from S.H.I.E.L.D. had become accustomed to being avoided and ignored outright by the billionaire; but _this_ appointment had been arranged through Ms. Potts herself, and it seemed uncharacteristic of the efficient businesswoman to have double-booked her employer.

"Yes, it was evidently a very important 'meeting' which apparently took place in Atlantic City late yesterday evening. _I_ was told about it only this morning," Miss Pepper Potts explained, the exasperation apparent in her tone.

Coulson inclined his head and gave a quiet, "Ah," in understanding.

The woman pinched her lips together in a rigid smile and nodded her head at him, as if to say, 'I know, welcome to my world.' After a short moment, what she actually said was, "So I'm afraid, Agent Coulson, that you'll have to settle for me this time. That is, unless you'd prefer to reschedule."

"Not at all," Coulson said, quickly shaking his head. Truth be told, while the neurotic and childish playboy that was Mr. Stark had a tendency to grind at the agent's well-concealed nerves, the lovely assistant was actually an acquaintance Coulson was quickly coming to admire, and even like. She was intelligent, competent, friendly, and a wonderful conversationalist. Coulson was starting to realize that he preferred working through her, simply because things actually seemed to get done when she was involved. It certainly made Coulson's job easier, and besides that, he just preferred her to Stark in practically every way.

He smiled at her kindly. "I'd appreciate any time you could afford me."

She smiled too, "Excellent. Then, would you come with me?"

He extended his arm to the side and bowed his head subtly, ushering her to lead the way, and she quietly obliged.

They had barely sat down at the conference table when Agent Coulson's phone began to buzz. His brow furrowed as he fished it out of his pocket and then looked at the screen. A nondescript gray silhouette was displayed above the words _Unidentified Number_, but Coulson knew instantly who it was.

He looked up at Pepper with polite regret in his eyes, "I'm terribly sorry."

She smiled and swatted at the air gently, "Oh, please, go ahead."

Coulson just nodded and tapped the screen, bringing the phone to his ear. "Sir?" he said, watching as Pepper retrieved a small planner from her breast pocket and began to write something into it.

"Yes sir, I just stepped into a meeting with Ms. Potts regarding-"

_Pause._

"No sir, Stark is on his way from out of town...No, on his way back."

_Pause._

Coulson scowled. "Yes sir, we're in the conference room..." His words sounded hesitant, like he didn't like where the conversation was headed.

Pepper looked up at the sudden change in Coulson's tone. The agent locked eyes with her as he listened to his phone intently. His expression became very serious and Pepper knew instantly that something must be wrong.

Pulling the phone lightly away from his mouth, Coulson said to her, "We have to go."

"Go where?" she asked. There was a nervous spike in her voice, but she offered no resistance to the agent's hand as he gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the door, still listening to his phone. "What's going-"

Before the words could escape her mouth, a thundering noise rocked somewhere beneath them and the whole building shook violently. Pepper jumped with a scream when the large glass covering on the light fixture broke free and crashed down onto the mahogany conference table. Her heart pounded as she saw the chair she was sitting in moments ago covered in large shards of glass. Coulson looked over his shoulder and shared an equally relieved glance with her before saying into the phone. "They've just hit. Exit strategy?"

Another short pause and Coulson pulled the phone away from his mouth again. "Roof," he said.

Pepper nodded and pointed through the door, "This way," and she took the agent's hand and pulled him along.

The halls of Stark Industries were crowded with people frantically trying to get to an exit. Pepper ducked and weaved in between them, keeping her tight grip on Coulson but not looking behind her. She let out another scream when the building suddenly jolted with a second blast. She stumbled violently to the side and jammed her shoulder against the wall.

Coulson crouched lower to the ground as debris started to fall around them from the shake. He pulled her back to her feet. "You okay?" he yelled over the noise.

Pepper merely nodded, catching her footing again and noticing for the first time that the agent seemed to have produced a firearm from somewhere in the last several seconds. Tearing her eyes away from the gun and up into his remarkably calm eyes, she asked, "Who are they?"

The man frowned and shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "but we have to get you out of here."

The two made their way into the stairwell. It was a fight against the current, climbing the seven stories up to the roof as everyone else rushed down towards the lobby. Pepper knew a lot of these people, and felt the need to stop and make sure some of them were alright, but Coulson's gentle pressure at her back kept her moving.

Eventually, they broke free into the clean air. Pepper let go of Coulson's hand and doubled over, coughing away the light layer of dust from her lungs. A second later, Pepper gasped when she felt his steady hand land heavily on her shoulder. He pushed her backwards until he was gently holding her against the wall. It was strange how his hold on her was both firm and soft at the same time, but looking up into his face, the same could be said for the man's eyes. Pepper was taken aback. By precisely what, she wasn't quite sure.

Coulson brought the barrel of his gun up to his lips and quietly shushed her, silently telling her not to move from the wall. Pepper simply gave a weak nod as she watched the agent, gun aimed in front of him, make a thorough sweep of the building top. He disappeared out of sight for a brief moment, securing the area behind them, and then reappeared again a moment later.

Coulson nodded the "all clear" at her and then looked up into the sky, spinning around several times, checking the horizons. He brought the phone up to his ear again. "You still there?" he asked, bringing his other hand, still clutching his gun, up to shield his eyes from the bright noonday sun. "Well any day would be good," he quipped.

As if in response to his snark, a black S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter appeared in the distance and headed straight towards them. The building rocked beneath them for a third time just as the helicopter arrived.

Coulson holstered his weapon and took Pepper's hand again, slipping his phone into his pocket as well. He gently touched her head and urged it downward. "Keep your head low!" he instructed over the sound of the aircraft's blades chopping through the air. "It's not going to touch down all the way!" With one hand pulling her to his side and the other protectively covering her head, Coulson crouched and hurried towards the helicopter.

A young agent opened the back hatch and reached his arm out once they were close enough. Coulson helped to hoist Pepper up to the agent's grip before pulling himself up into the helicopter and signaling to the pilot that they were safely inside.

As they started to rise away from the building, the young agent closed the hatch again and the volume level in the craft dropped from a deafening roar to a slightly less deafening clamor. Coulson felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up at the junior agent. "Sir, Director Fury wants to speak with you as soon as we land at HQ," he said over the noise. Coulson simply nodded his response as he looked over to Pepper in concern.

He had come to realize that the woman was remarkably resilient when it came to most things, but he could see evidence of her obvious fear as she sat and panted from the ordeal. There was a pang of guilt somewhere in his chest as he felt somehow responsible.

She looked up at the junior agent. "Do we know who it is?" she asked.

"No ma'am, not yet."

She looked back at Coulson desperately.

"Don't worry," he said, grabbing her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll find out what's going on. I promise."

* * *

There's the first chapter! Please let me know what you think! Chapter two will be up soon.


	2. Of Some Importance

CHAPTER TWO: Of Some Importance

The flight to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ was a quick one. They dismounted the helicopter as soon as it touched down, and Pepper watched in amazement as Agent Coulson transformed into the very image of aplomb. He straightened his tie and smoothed out his jacket as two agents exited the building to hold the doors open for him. They stood at attention as he and Pepper passed.

Inside, Coulson went straight to a desk and retrieved a badge; then he tipped his head towards a retinal scanner by a large door. Pepper was fast at his heels, but turned when the woman at the desk said, "Excuse me, ma'am, do you have authorization to go in there?"

Pepper fumbled with a response. "Oh, uh."

"Scan complete. Identity confirmed," a computerized voice chimed, and Coulson straightened again. He glanced over his shoulder at the woman at the desk and said simply, "Miss Potts is my guest. I will accept responsibility for her."

That seemed to effectively subdue the woman. "Yes sir, of course," she replied respectfully.

Coulson turned back to Pepper as the large doors opened, and he gave her a tiny, reassuring smile before leading the way. She had never really stopped to consider before what kind of position Agent Coulson had in S.H.I.E.L.D., but she was beginning to get the impression he was a man of some importance. She followed closely behind him, suddenly feeling a little intimidated by her surroundings.

As they walked, various agents approached Coulson's side, handing him files and rattling off a series of updates and briefings that consisted of language which mostly flew over her head. By the sound of things, though, it seemed like there were multiple attacks at various places around the city. She gasped as she recognized one of the addresses. "Wait a second, did you say 10880?" she asked in alarm.

Coulson looked over his shoulder at her input, slowly coming to a stop and causing the other agents to notice Pepper for the first time.

"That's Tony's address," she said.

"Yes ma'am," a female agent responded after a few seconds. The agent wasn't totally sure who this woman was, but Agent Coulson seemed to put some credence on what she said, so she obviously merited some kind of response. "Mr. Stark's residence was one of three locations which have all come under attack in the last ten minutes. We believe whoever is behind this is meaning to target Ironman."

The breath caught in Pepper's lungs as her hand came up to her heart. "Someone's trying to kill Tony?" she asked breathlessly.

With eyes glued on Pepper, Coulson bit his bottom lip and reached out to grab the female agent lightly by the arm. "Thank you, Agent Lester," he looked at her pointedly and forced a smile, "That will be all."

The small cloud of agents looked awkwardly back at Pepper, who looked as if she might faint, before following Coulson's silent order and dispersing. Coulson touched a hand lightly to Pepper's back, wordlessly asking her to look up at him. He smiled at her sweetly when she finally did, and his cool, fiercely calm eyes did a lot to steady her growing anxiety. "It's okay," he soothed quietly. "Mr. Stark was in Atlantic City. Remember?"

That's right. It had almost slipped her mind. Tony probably wasn't anywhere near his house. She let out a relieved laugh and nodded her head earnestly. "That's right," she said.

"See? Whoever this was, they obviously didn't count on him getting called away to that very important 'meeting'."

She laughed again. It felt like so long ago that she and Coulson had had that conversation, but he was right. No one had known Tony would be out of town. Pepper herself only found out about it a few hours ago.

"And whoever it is," Coulson continued, encouraging her to walk forward with him, "we'll get to them before they find out their mistake. You don't need to worry."

Pepper continued to follow at Coulson's side as he marched through endless hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters, his nose gravitating to the pages of a file as they walked. She was suddenly very grateful that Coulson was with her when the attack hit. She generally prided herself in her ability to stay calm when the rest of the world was falling to pieces, but she had very little experience with things _actually_ falling to literal pieces, and she admittedly was not much of a fan. (The memory of the night Obadiah died was still a recurring sequence in her nightmares.) In that moment, with all of the chaos and screaming, the gentle assurance of this reserved agent at her side was like an anchor to Pepper. His confidence was contagious, and Pepper made a mental note to never underestimate the man again. This gentle, unassuming guy in the nice suits and disarming smile, he may look like an accountant, but he was a soldier when the chips hit the table.

And she almost plowed straight into that soldier when he stopped abruptly and turned in front of her.

"I'm going to need to ask you to wait here while I talk to the director," he said, gesturing with a small nod towards a dark figure standing at the head of a large room. It was clearly a command center of some kind and there were a couple dozen people all busily reading equipment and speaking orders into small microphones.

"Oh, of course," Pepper replied.

Coulson quickly walked to the man in the large leather coat and black eye patch and the two of them proceeded to have a quiet exchange for several long minutes. Pepper tried to stand out of the way as people came and went. Were all of these people working like this to protect Tony? There was something oddly touching about the whole image. It felt like a scene from Apollo 13, except instead of trying to bring a crew of American heroes home from outer space, this Houston command base was frantically trying to protect one man, her boss. It was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye.

Sure, Tony was obnoxious. He was offensive and self-absorbed and childish. But there was a goodness to Tony Stark that not many people saw. There was sweetness and sincerity that lay concealed under the pomp and devil-may-care attitude that the man projected to the rest of the world. Every once in a while, that shell would crack just enough that the billionaire's heart would just barely peek through; and over the years, Pepper had come to realize that it was actually a heart of gold. When she first came to work for him, it was the money that kept her from quitting. But now? Now it was truly the man that made her stay. He really needed her, and in a lot of ways, she needed him too.

And standing in the corner of that room, watching those dozens of strangers working so diligently, it occurred to Pepper that these people were different from most. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't like all the other government organizations who were trying to get a piece of the Ironman suit. Maybe these people actually saw what Pepper saw, that Tony Stark was a man worth saving.

She was drawn out of her thoughts when she saw Agent Coulson turn around slightly and gesture for her to come over. The man to whom Coulson was talking was tall and intimidating, but Pepper tried not to let that commentary show in her expression as she walked up to the two men. As she approached, she heard the quiet remnants of a comment from the director, saying something about reminding the agent it wasn't "bring your date to work day."

Coulson was polite enough to blush as he extended his arm to her, welcoming her into the small circle. "Director Fury," he said formally. "This is Miss Virginia Potts, Mr. Stark's personal assistant."

"I know who she is," the man said indignantly. "And you thought it was a good idea to bring a civilian into my restricted headquarters?" Fury asked, eyeing Coulson with his only good eye.

Pepper inclined her head at the director's implied insult.

Coulson was quick with his response. "You'll remember that I had just stepped into a meeting with Miss Potts when the attack on Stark Industries began. I believe she is an asset and will be a great help in locating Mr. Stark."

Fury looked back at her, like he was still unsure. He took her hand in a firm shake. "Right. Miss Potts, pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," she said, faking a smile. She was good at that when she needed to be.

"Probably good of you to get her out of there, considering her connection to Stark," Fury went on, almost ignoring her presence now. "The goal of this little fireworks display might have been to eliminate Stark, or it might have been just to hit all his pressure points." He looked pointedly at the redhead before turning back to Coulson. "Get her to a safe-house and put Walters on a security detail until the situation is under control."

"Wait a minute," Pepper interjected. "Where is that safe-house? Because I can't leave the city. My company is in shambles, our building has just been attacked. Come morning, I'm going to have a circus on my hands, if they haven't already set up the tents, and who do you think is supposed to take care of all that with Tony gone?"

Fury looked at the woman with a sort of displeased surprise, like he had forgotten she knew how to talk in the past ten seconds.

"Let me take her somewhere within the city, sir," Coulson offered. "Somewhere safe."

Fury turned his glare onto the shorter man. "And where, exactly, would you suggest, agent?" he sounded like he already knew the answer to that.

Coulson inclined his head ever so slightly. "Let her stay with me. My apartment is secure and, as acting liaison to the affairs concerning Stark Industries, I feel this matter is, at least in part, my responsibility. I would feel better knowing that no one else was having to clean up my mess. If we need a security detail now, let me handle it."

Fury burrowed into Coulson with his steady gaze for several exaggerated seconds.

_Arnold Gregsby,_ Pepper realized silently, _That's who this guy reminds me of. _He was the chief curator of the London Museum of Modern Art. Pepper had been given the displeasure of sitting through three meetings with him during an auction negotiation several years ago. The man's stare could cut like a blowtorch through snow, and the worst part was...he knew it. Watching Director Fury give Agent Coulson the stink eye at that very moment, the two stares looked almost identical. But to his credit, Coulson didn't seem shaken in the least, his resolve never budging.

"Fine," Fury said at last. "I'm going to let you _handle_ this one. But I don't want a headache from you later about this, you understand?"

"Yes sir," Coulson nodded.

Fury turned away, mumbling to himself, "Got _enough_ problems..." and Coulson turned on his heel, Pepper quickly following.

They exited the command center and cut down a different hallway. "Interesting how nobody asked for _my_ opinion in all of that," Pepper mused aloud.

Again, she almost ran into Coulson when he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to her with a mortified look on his face. It was probably the most expression she had ever seen from him.

"Miss Potts, I apologize. I should-"

Pepper laughed and raised a hand to stop his words. "It's fine. I think you arranged the best solution. Don't worry about it."

He looked relieved when he realized she was joking, but he didn't quite let himself laugh. He merely nodded at her instead. "What will you need to tide you over for a few days?"

The list leapt instantly to mind. "My laptop, my charger, my work portfolio."

"Agent Wycliff," he said, cutting off her words and catching the eye of a passing agent. The young woman approached obediently.

"Yes sir?"

"Are you currently on task for anything?"

"No sir," she replied.

"Good. I need you to run an errand for me. This is Miss Potts. She will be in the care of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a time and I need you to help her feel comfortable. She is going to give you a list of items from her work and residence that she will be needing during her time with us. I need you to collect these items and bring them back here within the next two hours. Understood?"

The agent's eyes widened slightly at the quick deadline, but she nodded obediently in spite of it. "Yes sir."

Coulson turned to Pepper, softening his tone slightly. "Just tell her what and where. She'll handle the rest." Turning back to the agent he added, "When she's given you the list, show her to my office before leaving."

"Yes sir," the young woman replied.

Pepper turned back to Coulson and gave her thanks, barely catching the small nod and equally subtle smile from him before he disappeared down another hall.

* * *

Sorry for the delay in posting. New chapter will be up soon!


	3. The Arrival

CHAPTER THREE: The Arrival

It didn't take long for the young agent to get everything written down. After depositing Pepper at Coulson's office, she turned rapidly and vanished, the deadline he had given her obviously lighting a fire behind her movements. (S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, apparently, were all very adept at turning on their heels.)

Coulson smiled at Pepper when she entered his office. He told her to make herself comfortable as he returned to his own work. Pepper was glad for the respite and settled into the stiff couch across from his desk. She pulled out her phone. It wasn't ideal, but at least she could get _some_ of her work done without her computer. Coulson stayed silent at his own desk, occasionally calling a junior agent into his office to give them some instruction or have them run a file for him. Pepper was mostly distracted by her own tasks, but still managed to quietly observe the man as he worked.

She admired his diligence and the way he treated his subordinates. He was authoritative and yet cordial at the same time, having a no-nonsense attitude without being overly gruff. It caused the other agents to respond with the appropriate level of efficiency and respect, and maybe a hint of terror too. Pepper could certainly relate to that. She had a particular reputation for being capable of charming you and bending you to her will at the same time. It was a delicate balance of pleasantness and severity, and Agent Coulson likewise seemed to be a master of it.

There was also something about his mild attitude that impressed her, in light of the day's events. He still had a layer of dust coating the shoulders of his jacket from where a building had literally crumbled around him, and yet he acted as if it was just another day at the office. Pepper felt she could learn something from this man. He was the very image of composure in the midst of chaos.

The two hours passed faster than either workaholic had realized, and Agent Wycliff was soon knocking on Coulson's door. After only a little more delay, Coulson and Pepper were making their way to the parking garage.

He glanced over at her as they walked down the long line of cars. She looked up and caught his eye, causing him to look away sharply. He clicked the button on his key chain and the tail lights of a nearby Acura blinked in response.

"This you?" she asked.

"Well, for now. My car's still at Stark Industries. This is a loan."

"Right," she said. She was surprised when he didn't go directly to the driver's side, but followed her to the passenger's door instead. He grabbed the handle, and paused. Something was obviously bothering him. She cocked her brow at him questioningly.

Coulson heard the unspoken question. "We could have that looked at, before we go," he said.

"What?" she asked.

He looked pointedly at her shoulder. He had been subtly watching the bruise darken all day, and the skin from where she had been thrown into the wall from the explosion was now a deep purplish gray. Coulson couldn't keep himself from bringing it up any longer. "We have the best medical staff in the world," he went on, "made up of the finest thinkers and practitioners in their fields."

Pepper looked down at her arm with an air of dismissal. "Oh, I'm sure that's not necessary. I've had bruises before, Agent Coulson. It looks worse than it feels, believe me."

Coulson turned his gaze once more to her shoulder and hesitated, his expression still unconvinced. But in the end, he decided to drop the issue and he opened the car door for her.

The ride to his apartment was quiet. He told her that she could choose a radio station if she wanted, but she said she was fine. Coulson gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he suddenly felt a wave of awkward wash over him. He tried to remember the last time he had a woman over to his apartment...

Coulson quickly cut that calculation off in his head. He changed his mind. He didn't want to know. Besides, that wasn't why he was bringing Pepper to his place anyway (even if she _was_ admittedly very beautiful, and he was admittedly very overdue).

He tried to remember in what condition he had left his apartment last. He hadn't stepped foot in there in over a month, having returned from a brief assignment last week, and then spending two nights in medical for standard evaluation. Then he had spent the last couple of nights on the sofa in his office because it was just easier that way. Had he made the bed in his apartment before his mission? Surely he would have. Right?

When they arrived, Coulson insisted on retrieving the two boxes of Pepper's things from his trunk and carrying them himself. Perhaps she wasn't worried about her shoulder, but Coulson knew that it couldn't be as comfortable for her as she claimed. They climbed the three flights of stairs and then Coulson fished out his keys to open the door. (Ordinarily, he would draw his weapon at this point and do a thorough sweep of his apartment as soon as he entered, but the point of this whole thing was to make Pepper feel safe here, so he decided against it this time.)

She watched him with an amused smile. He was so awkward, fumbling with his keys, not making eye contact. He was acting almost shy and Pepper simply added it to the new-versions-of-Agent-Coulson list she was experiencing that day.

When the door swung inward, Coulson stepped into the apartment and kicked aside the small pile of mail that had accumulated in front of the door. He flipped a light switch, and then stood with his back against the door, holding it open for her. "Please come in," he said, holding the boxes to the side to give her room to enter.

As she walked slowly in, Coulson tried to gauge her reaction. There was a small, almost wistful smile on her face as she took in her surroundings. The air smelled thick with dust, and Coulson scrunched his nose in embarrassment. He let the door close behind them and locked it after he set the boxes down.

"Please, uh, please make yourself at home," he welcomed, pulling out his phone and silently activating an app. It was standard on all S.H.I.E.L.D. phones. It swept the area for anything potentially compromising, basically collecting the energy signals of anything within a thousand square feet that ran off of an electric power source. If anyone had been in that apartment and planted some kind of bug, he would know about it in just a minute.

He returned the phone to his pocket once the app was running and followed Pepper into the living area. Looking around at his meager apartment and furnishings, he was suddenly (and oddly) reminded of Stark's great wealth. He had never personally been to the billionaire's mansion, but he was certain it was probably most impressive. Coulson cleared his throat and mentally shook away the unsolicited comparison. "Uh...living room," he said, gesturing across the room with a sweeping hand.

Pepper's smile was still in place as she nodded. It was sparsely decorated, with a sofa and coffee table in the middle of the floor, a medium-sized TV against the wall, and a vintage record player by the window. A small bookcase housed several books, a few movies, and had about a dozen records pinned between it and the record player. There was only one effort of decoration in the entire room and it hung on the wall directly across from the entryway. It was a painting of Boston's skyline at night, fastened onto a large piece of wood with hammer and nails. It was a simple living room, but there was an elegance to the simplicity, too. Pepper liked it.

Coulson walked farther in and pointed to a small table, flanked by three chairs, under another window. "Eating area." Walking a little farther, "Um, kitchen."

Pepper poked her head around the corner and took in the kitchen. It was small, but had nice finishings on the counters and cabinets, and all of the appliances were up-to-date. It was also remarkably tidy. Pepper was a neat freak, but she didn't even think her kitchen was this clean. It looked like it was ready for a magazine shoot. She nodded approvingly.

"And, uh," Coulson pointed and crossed the living room to the opposite wall. Pepper quietly followed. He opened a door and turned on the light, not going in all the way.

Pepper met him in the doorway and looked inside. It was his bedroom. A large dresser took up most of one wall and the queen-sized bed took up the opposite. The bed was perfectly made, with the blankets and pillows (an assortment of dark reds and blues) looking plush and comfortable. Pepper looked up at him and her smile intensified when he pinched his lips together and immediately looked away. She was sure she saw his cheeks redden slightly, and Pepper found it utterly charming.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and then pulled the door closed again. "And, uh, the living room," he finished, turning quickly away from the bedroom. _Wait, said that one already,_ he realized, and then proceeded to feel stupid.

His phone dinged in his pocket, alerting him that it was finished sweeping for bugs. He glanced at the screen and confirmed that the place was clean. "Like I said, make yourself at home," he repeated.

"And the bathroom?" she asked.

"Oh," he jutted a thumb back behind him. "Right off the bedroom."

Pepper nodded mildly as she turned to look once more at the cozy living room. "It's very nice," she finally said.

Coulson knew it was the polite thing for her to say, so he replied with the appropriately polite response, "Thank you."

He watched her as she walked over to his bookcase and crouched to view the titles. "It suits my needs," he went on, shoving his hands into his pockets casually. She looked up at him and he smirked. "I go out of town a lot."

She smiled back at him, grateful that he wasn't acting so awkward now. Though, she must admit that she found it secretly adorable.

"Are you hungry?" he asked after a while of letting her peruse his books and movies. "I could make us something."

Pepper wasn't going to mention it but, yes, she was rather hungry. She had been planning on grabbing lunch after her meeting with Coulson, but that obviously hadn't happened. Now it was going on five o'clock, and she was famished. "Dinner sounds wonderful, actually," she answered.

"Great, I'll see what we've got." He turned and walked into his kitchen.

_Please have food, please have food,_ he silently begged, opening his refrigerator and peering inside.

"Damn," he said quietly. The refrigerator was bare except for a plastic bottle of half-drunk champagne left over from New Year's, a canister of shredded parmesan cheese, and a nondescript wad of tinfoil he was pretty sure held a stick of butter at one time.

He broadened his search to include the cabinets and found a box of microwavable popcorn. _Does popcorn have an expiration date?_ he wondered as he checked the wrapping. It looked fine, so he threw it in the microwave and hit the popcorn button. Then, confirming that the rest of his kitchen was essentially empty, he gave up.

Pepper had retrieved a book and taken it to the couch to do some reading. She liked Orson Scott Card, but had never heard of his book _Empire_. She was almost through the first chapter when she heard Coulson returning from the kitchen. She looked up, expecting him to be holding a meal of some kind, and had to keep from laughing when she saw a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a telephone book in the other.

He smiled sheepishly. "Looks like I need to go to the grocery store," he said, sitting beside her on the couch and laying open the book on the coffee table. He grabbed a few kernels and tossed them into his mouth before flipping the phonebook to a familiar page. "All of these places deliver," he said and shoved the book lightly to her side of the table.

* * *

Thanks for reading! The next chapter should be up soon. Looking forward to your feedback on this one!


	4. Settling In

CHAPTER FOUR: Settling In

Pepper and Coulson spent some time relaxing on the couch, enjoying the bowl of popcorn and talking about things that weren't important. After such a hectic day, it was a pleasant change of pace. Within the hour, there was a knock at the door and Coulson got up to answer it.

"Hey there, Mr. Coulson!" the teenaged delivery boy greeted happily when the agent opened the door.

"Hey Andy. How's life?" Coulson replied, pulling out his wallet and finding the appropriate amount of cash.

"Oh you know, school, work, girlfriend. The usual."

"You got a girlfriend?" Coulson arched an eyebrow good naturedly.

"Yeah! I told you that last time, remember? _Bridgette_," the boy emphasized the name like it was naked and bobbed his eyebrows up and down.

"Oh god," Coulson said, pulling out a wad of cash and handing it to the kid. "Remind me later to mail that girl a taser."

Andy laughed. "A taser. That's really funny," he said ironically. "For the record, I'm a great boyfriend."

"For the record, bullshit," Coulson quipped, taking the bag of food from the kid and peering inside. "You got my breadsticks in here?"

"Of course. Both of them. You must be pretty hungry tonight, Mr. Coulson. Not like you to order two meals."

From her place on the couch, Pepper had been eavesdropping on the conversation with a good deal of amusement. She took that comment as her cue and leaned to the side to peer through the doorway at the boy. When he noticed her come into view, she smiled and gave a little wave.

Andy's jaw dropped slightly and Coulson turned to see what had caught his eye (though he already had a guess).

Pepper shared her smile with Coulson and gave him a subtle wink.

He breathed out a small laugh and shook his head at her. She was enjoying this too much. Coulson turned back to Andy and closed the door a little more, cutting off the kid's over-eager view of the lovely redhead behind him.

"She. Is. _Hot_!" the teenager mouthed, waving his hand like he just burned his fingers.

Coulson gave a cheeky smirk. "Keep the change, kid," he said with a small wink before closing the door fully.

"Right, _goodnight sir_!" Andy called in an overly jovial voice from behind the door.

Coulson just snorted at the boy's adolescent imagination as he carried the food towards the table. He wagged a finger at Pepper as he passed. "You are very bad," he chastised, and she stood to follow him.

"Oh please," she replied, "that was the highlight of his night, you know it."

He laughed again quietly. As she watched him pull the containers from the bag and set them on the table, she realized that was the first time she had heard him give a real chuckle. She had known the man now for several months, and that was the most sincere laugh she had ever heard from him. It warmed her heart for some reason, and she felt strangely proud for having caused it.

Coulson set out some plates and silverware and discarded the plasticware and styrofoam containers. Sitting at the table, sharing a quiet meal with a guest, Coulson felt nice. This kind of thing didn't happen for him very often, but there was something beautifully domestic about it. It was a feeling he had never realized he missed, but it felt good.

Pepper hummed her approval when she took her first bite. "This is really good," she said after swallowing.

Coulson nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I order from here a lot. And their breadsticks are the best."

Pepper unwrapped her breadstick from the tin foil in response. "Have you ever been to Italy?" she asked, tearing off a piece of the bread and plopping it in her mouth.

"Once. A long time ago," he answered mildly.

"I was there just last month. Isn't it gorgeous?"

Coulson smiled. "It was beautiful," he answered. He wasn't exactly sure if that was an accurate description of his time in Italy, but he knew it was the answer she expected. Truth be told, he didn't remember much of it. Most of his visit to that country was spent protecting a parrot that had been injected with a very important computer chip, and trying to find the antidote to a serum that was slowly shutting down the faculties of Coulson's brain. But that was another story, and Coulson didn't feel like bringing it up.

"So," Pepper said, after a lull in the conversation. "What are the odds that I'll get to go back into work tomorrow?"

Coulson leaned back in his seat and dabbed the sauce off the corners of his mouth. "I would advise against it," he finally said. "It would be good if you could try to do as much work as possible from here. Keeping you away from places you'd usually frequent is my preference right now."

"But why? I'm still not totally certain why I'm in protective custody if these people were after Tony."

"At this point, we haven't been able to confirm what the actual target of the attacks was. Clearly, it was meant to affect Mr. Stark, but the objective might have been to wound him in ways apart from the physical."

Pepper narrowed her eyes in consideration. "You mean financially," she said with a nod.

Coulson sighed lightly. He could tell he wasn't making himself clear. The agent shifted in his seat slightly as he tried to find a delicate way of explaining. "The purpose of the attacks might have been to target the people in Mr. Stark's life to whom he was the closest and felt most devoted...There are very few people in this world, Miss Potts, who Stark cares for more than you. If you were harmed, it would likely have a _serious_ impact on him. That might have been the purpose of today."

His words were soft and tender and they took Pepper by surprise. Since Tony was kidnapped in Afghanistan several months ago, Pepper had begun to realize that perhaps her disposition towards her boss wasn't strictly platonic. Since he returned, she had been seeing herself become more and more attached to him, and wasn't totally oblivious to his new attitude towards her. Tony was a flirt and always had been, but something was different about the way he looked at her these days. She felt like there was something building privately between them, but she was still surprised to find out that people from the outside world had observed this as well. She hadn't thought they were being that transparent, but apparently Agent Coulson had picked up on it, even with his limited exposure to the two of them.

Pepper felt suddenly embarrassed and dabbed her mouth with her napkin, hoping her cheeks weren't as red as they felt. She looked up at Coulson, but the gentleman had lowered his gaze to his plate out of respect for her blushes. She narrowed her eyes slightly at him when she observed a quiet pulse in his temple. The conversation seemed to have some sort of effect on him as well, but she couldn't read his response well enough to know what he was thinking.

The meal was notably quiet after that. The dinner-mates barely spoke and made eye contact even less frequently.

When they were finished eating, Pepper had to fight Coulson for the right to clean the dishes, but she eventually won. While she did that, Coulson went to the entryway and recovered her boxes, carrying them into his bedroom and leaving them there. He got some of his clothes out from his dresser and then grabbed his toiletries from the bathroom. He put them in a small pile next to the couch. He looked up to see Pepper reemerging from the kitchen with the bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"Night cap?" she asked.

Coulson's smile was half grimace as he looked at her. "It's probably not very good," he warned.

She shrugged and sat down on the couch. "We can try it."

Coulson joined her on the couch, and they both laughed when she poured the first glass and it was completely flat, no bubbles whatsoever.

"Well, this will be interesting," Pepper joked as she poured herself a drink.

The two raised their glasses and clinked them together, slowly bringing them to their mouths with hesitant smiles. The liquid was actually not as bad as they expected, though it was odd without the usual fizz. They each licked around in their mouths, trying to appraise the taste and then nodded at one another.

"My thoughts exactly," Pepper said with a little laugh.

Coulson smirked and pinched one eye shut. "It's sweet," he offered.

"Yes, yes it is." Pepper sighed contentedly and leaned back against the couch. Coulson caused himself to do the same. A comfortable silence fell over the pair as they quietly sipped their drinks and looked at nothing in particular.

"You know," she began after a time, "I never thanked you for what you did today."

He looked over at her but didn't respond.

"It was a madhouse in there after the first explosion went off. I don't think I would have known what to do if you hadn't been there."

"You're a resourceful woman," he said, trying to take off the compliment. "I'm sure you would have been fine."

"I'm not so sure," she insisted. "And then, to open up your home like this..."

"It's really not much of a home," he tried again.

"Coulson," she said firmly, dropping the customary 'Agent' from in front of his name. It had the desired effect and he looked up, locking gazes with her. "Just say, 'You're welcome, Pepper.'"

He breathed out a small laugh and looked down at his glass. He knew she had caught him. He couldn't avoid her kind gratitude forever. After a moment, he looked up at her with a small smile. "You are very welcome, Miss Potts," he spoke tenderly. "Everything has been my distinct pleasure."

His words were slow and annunciated, and the deep look in his eyes added something unspoken to what he said. It made something shiver inside Pepper and she found that she couldn't look away. It was the first time she really noticed, but...Agent Coulson really had a very handsome face. The five o'clock shadow on his strong jaw was heading quickly for six o'clock, the lines of his mouth were suddenly very fascinating, and the man's eyes...his eyes...

Pepper cleared her throat and looked away. His eyes were very nice.

"Well," she said, louder than she expected. She hoped he had not noticed her ogling just a second ago, but knowing him, he probably had (though, he would be too much of a gentleman to mention it). "I guess I should get ready for bed," she said, finishing the last sip of her champagne and putting the glass on the table.

Coulson nodded and did the same. "I just need to grab something from the bedroom closet and then it's all yours." He stood from the couch and started walking over to the bedroom door.

"Oh no," Pepper said, standing behind him. "I don't want to kick you out of your bedroom. I'll take the couch."

Coulson turned at the comment. "Don't be ridiculous. I will be perfectly comfortable out here. I'd like you to have the bedroom."

"No, please, you've given up so much already."

Coulson sighed and dropped his head. There was no way on earth he was going to let a woman sleep on his couch while he was in a comfortable bed. If only he could convince her of that. He crossed the room again and put one hand on each of her arms, careful not to touch the bruise on her shoulder. "Miss Potts," he said softly. "You really _must_ let me insist on this."

She looked at him firmly and he silently shook his head, as if to say, 'No, I'm not budging.' She sighed after several long moments. "Your impeccable manners are really annoying sometimes," she said, only half joking, as she pushed past him towards the bedroom.

He smiled at the jab and turned to follow her.

She watched, hands on her hips, as he grabbed an extra set of blankets and sheets from the closet and then took one pillow from the bed.

He looked at her displeased expression and snorted a quick laugh, "Thank you for your sacrifice," he said, backing out of the room.

"Oh, shut up," she responded, closing the door in his face.

He caught the small grin on her lips before the door closed, and he smiled softly to himself as he turned to prepare his bed.

Several minutes later, Pepper had changed into her pajamas, grateful to finally get out of her dirty clothes from that hectic day, and prepared for bed. She walked over to the nightstand and flipped on the lamp, and then turned off the main light. Before climbing into bed, she went to the bedroom door and pulled it opened. And her breath caught in her throat.

On the other side of the door, Coulson was in the process of pulling a t-shirt down over his head, and for a brief second, his broad, muscular back was exposed to her eyes. The skin was spotted with several scars of varying shapes and sizes, but every muscle was well defined and they flexed lightly with his movements. He must have heard her gasp because he spun around, quickly pulling the shirt to cover his chest. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said.

Pepper closed her eyes and shook her head, "No, no, no. _I'm_ sorry. I should have warned you." There was a firm shade of pink in her cheeks.

"It's fine," he responded, trying to hide his amusement. "Did you need something?"

"No. I just...I always sleep with the door open."

He arched his eyebrows and nodded.

"I saw a movie when I was a little girl that had a ghost in it," she explained. "At one point, the ghost walked into someone's bedroom with the door still closed. I guess the image of him walking through a door like that always freaked me out, and I've slept with it open ever since... Unless it will bother you, that is."

Coulson quickly shook his head, "Oh no, that's fine."

"Okay," she said, feeling sheepish now as she turned back into her room. "Goodnight, Agent Coulson," she said a few moments later, climbing into bed and looking back towards the door.

He had turned out the lights in the apartment and was settling into the couch. He looked over at her. "Goodnight, Miss Potts," he replied with a smile.

She turned off the lamp and the entire apartment went black. The world was quiet as the two tried to fall asleep. Eventually, Coulson's eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and he could just make out her silhouette from his place on the couch. The image of Pepper in his bed was intoxicating to him, and he suddenly felt incredibly isolated on that couch.

Coulson tightly shut his eyes. _Get it together, agent,_ he inwardly rebuked. _She's someone else's girlfriend._ He hoped this issue with Stark was resolved soon, because having her in his apartment was going to be very difficult, especially if those kinds of thoughts kept occurring.

Coulson opened his eyes and they landed on Pepper's still silhouette again. He sighed to himself. Why did she have to be so beautiful?

The night deepened and all became quiet. In the darkness of that apartment, two pairs of eyes were unknowingly locked on one another. And like that, they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I am anxious to know what you guys think of this chapter. Let me know in the reviews! :)


	5. To Tell Him Thank You

CHAPTER FIVE: To Tell Him Thank You

Pepper's eyes fluttered open promptly at six o'clock. She had always been an early-riser. She hardly used an alarm clock anymore because her body seemed to naturally wake her up at this time every day. Looking around the unfamiliar room, it only took her a few moments to remember where she was. The sparse bedroom looked different in the early morning light. She hadn't even noticed the night before that the walls were a soft yellow. She had several satisfying stretches in the comfortable bed before finally flinging aside the covers and sitting up.

She wondered what time Coulson usually went in to work and if he would need to use the shower before she did. Pepper looked through the doorway, but the couch was empty. She pulled her bathrobe from one of her boxes and headed out into the living room. There was no sign of Agent Coulson. The blanket and sheets he had used the night before were all folded neatly and placed with the pillow in a pile by the couch. She went into the kitchen even though, by the lack of noise, she didn't expect to find him there either.

Sure enough, the kitchen was empty. The only signs that he had been there were a toothbrush resting on the counter next to a razor, and a few whiskers in the sink. She turned on the faucet to wash the whiskers down the drain. There was a noise from the other room and Pepper quickly shut off the water to hear clearly. It was someone at the front door trying to get in. They were fumbling with the handle clumsily.

Pepper froze. Whoever it was, they didn't seem to have a key. She remembered what Coulson had said the night before, about how she might have been the target of those attacks. She was suddenly gripped in fear. How likely was it that someone could have tracked her down? Where was Agent Coulson? Pepper grabbed a knife in one hand and a skillet in the other and slowly turned the corner to peek at the front door.

Whoever it was had finally managed to get the door unlocked, and the heavy piece of wood started to swing open. Pepper watched as the figure slowly came into view, and she sighed when it was Agent Coulson, struggling to pull his key out of the lock while juggling three grocery bags.

The man was practically dripping with sweat, returning home from what appeared to be a pretty good run. He wore a pair of basketball shorts, tennis shoes, and a close-fitting Nike shirt that left his arms exposed from the shoulders. The muscle definition in his arms matched that of his back she had seen the night before. It was then that she decided what a tragedy his suit sleeves were. The man hid a very impressive form beneath those suits and Pepper let herself take in the rare image with a small smile.

He clearly didn't noticed her, taking great pains to make sure he didn't cause any excess noise. He hiked his shoulders and hissed in a breath through clenched teeth when his keys slipped from his grasp and hit the floor with a loud clang. He glanced over at the bedroom door before bending to retrieve his keys.

Pepper smiled to herself. He was trying to be so considerate.

He started sneaking towards the kitchen, but froze when he looked up and saw her for the first time. He straightened with a surprised expression. "Oh, you're up," he observed. Then, noticing the skillet and knife, he added, "and armed."

Pepper looked down and then moved both items behind her back. "I thought you were an intruder," she confessed, quietly biting her lip with an embarrassed smile.

Coulson chuckled and then moved past her into the kitchen. "I'm glad to see you're keeping on your toes. Sorry I scared you."

She turned and leaned against the doorjamb. "It's fine. You went running I take it?"

He nodded as he started to pull things from the grocery bags. "Sorry if I smell. I'll hop in the shower here in a bit. Managed to pick up some things for breakfast though."

"Oh, good!" Pepper said with a tiny clap, coming alongside him to help unpack the bags. He had bought eggs, a small carton of milk, fruit, some ham, and a can of coffee beans. She nodded her approval. "This is great. Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll make us something to eat."

He looked up, "Oh, are you sure? I don't mind making it."

"Go. I'll be fine."

Coulson smiled, "Okay, I'll be quick!" and he scurried away to the bathroom.

A short time later, Coulson emerged from the bedroom with a glorious smell flooding his senses. He fastened the tie around his neck as he approached the kitchen. There was already one plate resting on the small table and he leaned over it to take in the sight of a beautiful omelet and sliced fruit. He sniffed the air indulgently and said, "Smells delicious."

Pepper came from the kitchen and smiled at him, carrying her own plate. "Thank you," she said cheerily as she took a discrete moment to admire his sleek suit. "I must say I feel a little underdressed."

Coulson looked up at her light purple bathrobe and smiled. Her hair was unkempt and the collar of her pajama top was askew. "You look gorgeous," he responded, full of honesty.

She put down her plate with a grin and stepped towards him, taking his tie into her hands and straightening it slightly. Every tie needed a woman's touch, after all. Coulson was silent with the subtlest of smiles on his face while she concentrated on her work. "There," she said a short while later, smoothing her hands over the shoulders of his suit.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I'll, uh, grab the coffee," he said after a silence drew out between them, and he went to retrieve two mugs from the cupboard.

They both took a seat at the table and ate their breakfast, the air casually punctuated with polite speech and witty jokes. Coulson was surprised by how much he was enjoying such a simple breakfast. It wasn't even about the food, though that was scrumptious. It was the company. Having a lovely woman sitting across from him, sipping her coffee and remarking about the news she had read on her phone that morning, it almost felt like a regular life. He had never "played house" as a child (because it was a girl's game), but he imagined this must be what it felt like.

He rose from the table and moved to collect the dishes when they were both finished. "Will you be okay here for the day? Will you need anything?"

"Oh, I'll be fine. It will be a busy day, but I'll be able to operate from here."

"You have my number?" he asked, rinsing the dishes in the sink and then placing them in the dishwasher.

Pepper nodded, "I believe so."

Coulson checked his watch and started to move towards the door. Pepper followed behind him. "Call me if you need anything whatsoever, and keep the door locked. Don't leave the apartment for any reason," Coulson instructed, turning to face her at the door.

He hesitated. If they were really playing house, this would probably be the part where she'd kiss him goodbye. Looking over to the door awkwardly and then back to Pepper, Coulson wondered if there was something he was supposed to say.

"I'll be careful," Pepper assured and reached up to squeeze his arm through his gray sleeve. "Thank you again, Agent Coulson," she said, in lieu of a kiss.

Coulson smiled at her with a small nod. "Have a good morning, Miss Potts."

And with that, he was gone, pausing by the door just long enough to hear her slip the deadbolt into place and apply the chain-lock. Satisfied, he turned and marched down the hallway.

* * *

Pepper's day was a little mad. Collectively speaking, she probably spent four hours on conference calls alone, then about two hours reading and responding to emails. A couple more hours were occupied by doing yesterday's work (the work that was supposed to get done after her meeting with Agent Coulson), and then reading and approving press releases took up another hour.

The search for Tony proved to be a discouraging one. Even Happy hadn't heard anything since the billionaire had skipped town to splurge on wine, women, and song in Atlantic City. It wasn't the first time Tony had ditched his body guard, but it was still a relatively rare occurrence as Happy was usually at the man's side through every party and drunken binge. Pepper found it odd that Tony would abandon his wing man for such a random trip. The only thing that was clear was that Tony had taken his jet the night before last, leaving a note with his home AI to inform Pepper of his whereabouts. Other than that, her sources for information ran dry.

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She was exhausted. Between trying to keep a multibillion-dollar corporation afloat, reassure the board and stock holders that the world was not ending, and locate her AWOL boss, Pepper hardly remembered to make herself another omelet halfway through the day for lunch.

But, she found that she actually enjoyed working in Coulson's apartment. It was calm and remote, and she made use of his old record player, enjoying the agent's selection of smooth jazz and big band albums. Somehow, she would have to find a way to thank him for everything he was doing for her. She didn't think there were many people who would open up their homes to someone they hardly even knew.

It was true that she didn't know Agent Coulson very well before yesterday, only a few short meetings and phone conversations here and there over the last couple of months, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed since yesterday morning. So much had happened and she suddenly felt as if she and Agent Coulson were sincerely friends now. She always liked him and respected him, but now she also trusted him on a level that was hard to explain. Pepper didn't like to admit whenever she was shaken by most things, but the events at Stark Industries yesterday had honestly disturbed her, and having Coulson by her side the whole time had been like a lifeline for her. She needed to find some way of thanking him, but the man certainly didn't make it easy.

Pepper rose from the kitchen table, which she had converted into her private work space for the day, and paused when she heard a quick rustling of paper and then a thin metallic snap. Looking towards the front door, she saw the day's mail drop through the slot in the door. Curious, Pepper moved to the entry and, peering through the peephole, she watched as the mailman walked down the hallway and out of sight.

Content that nothing was out of the ordinary, Pepper bent to retrieve the fallen mail. The item on the top of the stack caught her eye. It was a bright yellow postcard, with balloons and confetti decorating the boarder. It read: _Wishing a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, our valued client! Sincerely, your friends at Wayright Dentistry._

Pepper smiled down at the card and flipped it over to confirm the date. It really was Agent Coulson's birthday! How perfect! She had been looking for a way to thank him and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. What says _thank you_ like a birthday party?

But Pepper had a problem. She told Coulson that she wouldn't leave the apartment for any reason. Pepper was ninety-five percent sure that she could make it to the store and back without getting herself killed, but it was also the first time Coulson had let her out of his sight since the attack, and she didn't want him to feel like he couldn't trust her. After a few more minutes of consideration, she got an idea.

Drawing her finger across the page of the phonebook, she found the number and dialed.

_"Flynn's Italian Bistro. What can I get ya?"_

"Yes, I was wondering if Andy was working today?" Pepper asked hopefully.

* * *

New chapter coming soon! In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this one.


	6. A Day at the Office

CHAPTER SIX: A Day at the Office

It was an exhausting day. Headquarters had been a madhouse ever since explosives rocked Stark Industries the previous afternoon. Not only was Tony Stark still missing, but another incident occurring in Russia that morning called Fury to the other side of the globe. Everything concerning the Stark case was hitting Coulson's or Commander Hill's desk. So halfway through the day, Coulson was already draining a fourth pot of coffee almost entirely single-handedly.

There was a brisk knock at his door. "Come," he called, too busy for the second syllable.

Maria Hill poked her head into his office. "They just brought in one of the perps from the residency bombings. I'm heading there now."

Coulson was grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair before the sentence was completely out of her mouth. "Stark's security footage panned out?" he asked as he followed her out of his office and took the file she handed him.

The commander nodded. "Cameras caught a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the scene thirty minutes before the bomb went off. System got a hit when he was pulled over for a DUI an hour ago."

"Beautiful," Coulson said. "What'd the cops say when you stole their drunk for questioning?"

"You mean after they looked up S.H.I.E.L.D.? Not much."

Coulson smirked as they both turned the corner. He nodded to the two guards on either side of the interrogation room door as he grasped the handle. Turning to Hill, he asked, "Want to be the caboose if I start things off?"

Hill's eyes narrowed, "You know, I'm not very fond of that terminology."

"Sorry," he said lightly, acknowledging the humor there. "How about dénouement?"

"Better," she nodded, and turned to enter the observation room.

Coulson wiped the smirk from his face as he turned the handle and strode into the room, an air of authority and intimidation imbued into his step. He slapped the file down onto the table and stared at the man in handcuffs.

He was probably in his mid forties, disheveled and thinning blond hair, and generous stubble on his face that was closing in on beard territory. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags underneath them suggested that the man hadn't slept much in the last 48 hours. The stench permeating from him was potent, but he had at least some clarity in his eyes. Maybe he had sobered up some at the police station.

Coulson exhaled a long breath as he took his seat across from the man. And he waited. For a very long time. Never looking away. Hardly blinking. He waited until the man was forced to speak. Rule number one of interrogation: the first two minutes mean everything. Establish a position of power and own the conversation.

"You know, most people just give tickets for speeding," the man finally said, obviously uneasy beneath the relentless gaze.

"I have it on good authority you're guilty of more than that," Coulson said mildly, picking up the file and flipping through the pages.

The man tipped his chin slightly. "Whose authority?"

"Mine," the agent replied, slapping the Stark security photo onto the table in front of him.

The man's eyes fixed on the picture and his face blanched noticeably.

"Want to tell me what you were doing there?" Coulson asked after a while.

"I want a lawyer," he replied.

The laugh that escaped Coulson's lips was quietly terrifying. The perpetrator looked up and was immediately disturbed by the small smile and level stare coming at him from the other side of the table.

"Isn't it funny how we always want the things we can't have?" Coulson asked by way of explanation.

The man scowled. "I know my rights. I'm entitled to a lawyer."

Coulson inhaled deeply. "I don't know if you realize this, mister-" he glanced back at the file, "...Dirk Feldman, but you've sort of exchanged hands here. We're not the police department. You'll find that we do things a little differently here." Coulson stood from his seat and smoothed a hand over his tie. As he spoke, he slowly started to move around the room, checking his reflection in the two-way mirror. "We don't care about your parking tickets or your probation records here, Mr. Feldman. We don't bring in lawyers because we don't prosecute." Here, he turned back to the man and smiled disarmingly. "We like to handle things outside of the court system, and we can get pretty creative about how we manage that. Our area of focus is usually more grandiose than the judicial system can facilitate."

Now, Coulson was moving around to walk behind the man, letting the uneasy moment of being outside of his direct line of vision linger a second longer than necessary. "We handle things on a global level, taking down individuals much more intelligent and dangerous than yourself." He watched to see if Feldman would respond to that, and was pleased when the only reaction the man gave was to look at his chained hands in shame.

Coulson went on, coming to stand beside the man now. "Bad guys, Mr. Feldman. Really bad guys. People who hurt innocent people, and then try to get away with it. We don't like those guys. And you know what?" He placed a hand on the table and leaned over him, noting how the man refused to fully look up at him. "When they get the chance to meet us, they usually don't like us either," he said darkly.

Coulson let a beat draw out before continuing, his tone brighter, "So you see, we're a pretty busy group of people, with a lot of problems all around the world vying for our attention. But you...you've drawn our attention now, Mr. Feldman," He turned to perch on the edge of the table, folding his hands in his lap calmly. "...And having our attention? It's usually not a pleasant thing."

Feldman's Adam's-apple bobbed up and down in a gulp and he looked up at Coulson with unease. "I don't have to talk to you," he said, after much hesitation.

Again, Coulson huffed out a little laugh and shook his head in amazement. "You want to know what happened the last time a man said that to me in this room?"

Feldman shifted uncomfortably.

"He changed his mind within five minutes," Coulson answered, giving two deceivingly light pats to the man's shoulder.

Pushing himself off of the table and walking back around to his seat, Coulson glanced up to the mirror again and gave a subtle nod. "But you're right," he went on. "I don't need any answers from you this second." Coulson retrieved the photo and file from the table and pinned them to his chest, crossing his arms around them.

"You'll find I'm a very patient man," the agent added as the door swung open. Coulson glanced over and wasn't surprised to see that Agent Barton had joined Hill at some point. Looking back at the swiftly sobering Feldman, he nodded towards the door. "Those two, however...they aren't nearly as patient." He flashed another smile at the man before turning to walk towards the door.

Coulson slapped the file into Barton's chest in greeting. "Don't get any blood on my paperwork," he ordered, loudly enough to be heard. "And clean up when you're done."

Barton nodded with a, "Sir," while Hill's eyes stayed glued on the intimidated bomber at the table. Coulson nodded once more and then swiftly exited the room. Honestly, half of that was pure intimidation. This guy felt really small-time to Coulson. Glancing at his watch, he guessed they would have their answers by two o'clock.

"Sir," a junior agent called, approaching once the door to the interrogation room had closed with a click behind Coulson. "Director Fury is requesting an update on com-channel four."

"I'll take him in my office," Coulson said, turning on his heel to head that way. Then, casting a quick glance back over his shoulder, he ordered, "And make me another pot of coffee."

* * *

The rest of the day progressed at a similarly fast pace. Coulson's vision was starting to blur as he glanced at the clock in the corner of his computer screen. It was almost five o'clock and their suspect was staying surprisingly tight-lipped. Coulson expected Hill to give the order for a truth serum any time now, but so far, they had been going at it the old fashioned way.

Coulson sighed and let the pen drop from his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. He would have to wait to find out what their guest in interrogation knew. Right now, he had to head home to Pepper. He felt guilty that he had left her alone all day, with only some eggs and fruit to eat. If he hurried, he could stop at the grocery store on his way back. Maybe she hadn't eaten yet and he could make them a quick, late dinner.

He applied his suit jacket as he exited his office, careful not to drop the file he was carrying. He sensed the person walking behind him before he heard their footsteps. "Agent," he greeted, knowing who it had to be.

Barton picked up the pace ever so slightly to come into view. "You taking off?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've got to get home."

"It's only five o'clock. That's when _normal_ people head home."

Coulson tossed an indignant glance at the younger agent.

The Hawkeye barely reacted to the gaze. "Seriously though, when was the last time you left work this early?"

Coulson shrugged. He didn't know the answer to that. "I have some responsibilities to which I must attend at home."

Barton nodded as he seemed to remember something. "That's right," he said, snapping his fingers, "You have Stark's girlfriend at your house, right?"

Something at the base of Coulson's neck pinched at that description, but he gave a curt nod in response. "I need to pick up something for dinner. She's probably starving, poor woman."

Barton smirked, turning to walk backwards while still keeping pace with his superior officer. "So how's that going?"

"Fine," Coulson answered, perhaps a hair too fast.

Barton's expression became exaggeratedly serious. He leaned closer and said in a discrete tone, "Are you keeping things..._professional_, Agent Coulson?" Barton bobbed an eyebrow up and down with the question.

Coulson leveled a stare at his subordinate. He lifted the file into view and tipped it slightly towards the other agent, refusing to even dignify Barton's joke with a response. "This belongs on Commander Hill's desk," he said, "See to it that it gets there. I'm going home," and he altered his course to head towards the exit.

Barton just smiled and raised his voice to comment, "Interesting how you didn't actually _answer_ that!"

"Good evening, Agent Barton!" Coulson replied, not even turning his head.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed seeing Business-Mode!Phil. This chapter was a lot of fun to write, so I'm interested to know if you enjoyed reading it and why. Let me know in the reviews, and I'll post the next chapter soon!


	7. Piece of Cake

Sorry for the delays between chapters. I have been out of town and my internet availability has been splotchy at best. But I thank you all for sticking with this story even with the slow updates. I am on my way home now, so updates should be able to resume regular pacing. Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews and patience. Now, onto chapter 7!

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN: Piece of Cake

The phone buzzed in his pocket as Coulson turned into his parking lot. It was a text from Pepper, _'Great! See you soon!'_

It was in reply to the text he had sent as he was leaving the grocery store. He had bought enough food to last them a couple of weeks, though he was doubtful this ordeal would last that long. What he had bought for tonight was just a simple meal which required a lot of microwaving. It wouldn't be gourmet, but at least they would both get some food in their stomachs pretty quickly. But as he unlocked and opened his apartment door, he rapidly realized that he wouldn't need the microwave tonight.

A heavenly scent entered his senses as he walked into the entryway of his apartment and the sound of Glenn Miller burst from his record player. He locked the door behind him and walked into the apartment with a look of confusion on his face.

The table was set for two and steam rose from a pot in the center, with a bowl of gravy and another one of mashed potatoes flanking it. But the food wasn't the only puzzling thing about the scene before him. A couple dozen or so homemade paper snowflakes hung extended by strings from the ceiling. Some were even taped to the backs of the chairs. "Miss Potts?" he called, walking farther into the living room.

She came from around the corner, holding a small bowl of white corn. "Oh!" she exclaimed with a smile, "I didn't hear you come in."

He watched agape as she placed the bowl onto the table and then clasped her hands in front of her with a smile. Coulson put down his bags of groceries in the middle of the living room and walked towards the table. "How...? Where did you get all of this food?" he asked, once he found his voice again.

"I hired our delivery boy from last night to do a little shopping for me. He was thrilled."

Coulson's gaze landed on the mashed potatoes. He couldn't remember the last time he had mashed potatoes that didn't come off a cafeteria line. "This looks delicious," he told her with a smile. Then he looked up to admire a snowflake, reaching out his hand to turn it gently. "What's with the decorations, though?"

Pepper looked at the paper designs and grimaced slightly. "Sorry they're a little out of season. But I forgot to tell Andy to buy some streamers, and this was the best I could come up with. Been ages since I made any, though. The first three got thrown away."

"Why?"

"Because they were hideous."

"No, I mean...why did you do all of this?" Coulson clarified, a sweeping gesture encompassing the table and decorations.

Pepper beamed. "Oh," she said, "First, tell me your name."

Coulson's expression dropped into a confused scowl and amused smile. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"It's just that I realize we have known each other for several months now, and I still don't even know your first name."

He was taken aback by that. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if he had ever introduced himself to her with his full name. He had always been "Agent Coulson" and she had always been "Miss Potts." Never once had they called each other by their first names. Such familiarity just wasn't acceptable for two consummate professionals such as themselves. But she was suddenly acting much more comfortably around him, and he was letting himself relax around her, almost like they were becoming friends.

He stalled on that word for a moment. Friend. Coulson didn't really have too many of those. Sure, he had partners, people he would give his life for on a mission, and knew that they would do the same. But that sort of devotion was more out of necessity than anything else. When you were in a dangerous environment, you had to achieve trust and loyalty extremely quickly. There wasn't time to develop a normal friendship. And beyond that, as close as operatives were with one another, there was always an unspoken understanding that you could never _really_ grow fond of someone else. Personal attachments led to possible disaster in the field. Missions could be compromised, lives could be lost if an agent acted on emotion rather than tactics. So, there were few people in his life Coulson would readily define as "friend." At least...not in the way he imagined "friend" would be defined by a normal person. But hearing Pepper ask to know his name...Coulson wasn't totally sure what this feeling was, but it was warm, and comfortable, and he enjoyed it.

His expression softened as he looked at her and smiled. "Phil," he said.

She returned the warm smile. "Phil," she repeated, looking like she was savoring the taste on it on her lips. She extended her hand to him, saying, "I'm Pepper, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Phil."

Coulson took her hand gratefully, smiling at the sweet gesture that it was. "The pleasure is mine," he paused, eliciting a look of encouragement from the woman, and then finished, "Pepper."

A silent moment ticked by, and they both let it. It was like they both realized that they had crossed into different territory. They weren't just acquaintances anymore, and they let that new dynamic marinate in the air around them.

"Well..." she said after a while, startling Coulson when she grasped him by both shoulders and maneuvered him to sit in one of the chairs. "Close your eyes," she ordered.

"What?"

"Just do it."

Coulson quietly obeyed, ignoring the little voice of his S.H.I.E.L.D. training that screamed in his brain, telling him to stay alert and to not cut off his line of vision, that this could be a trap. He told that little voice to shut up.

Coulson could hear her move into the kitchen. She was gone longer than he expected. "Everything okay?" he asked after several long moments.

"Fine! Don't open your eyes!" she replied.

Coulson just chuckled. "Tell me what you're looking for and I'll tell you where it is."

Her voice was closer this time. "No, no, I got it," she said, clearly approaching the table again. He heard her set something in front of him and then she said, "Okay, you can open them now."

He opened his eyes and smiled at Pepper suspiciously before looking down to the table. His breath caught in a barely concealed gasp as he heard her cheerful cry of, "Happy birthday!"

Sitting on the table was a homemade cake covered in chocolate frosting. The words _HAPPY BRITHDAY PHIL!_ were drizzled across the top in white lettering. The coloration of _PHIL_ was slightly different, indicating that it had just been added; while the frosting which read _HAPPY BIRTHDAY_ had obviously had some time to harden. A single candle was ablaze at its center.

Phil was speechless for a good thirty seconds. "My god," he finally said, "Is it really April already?"

Pepper laughed, "Yep. April second."

"Oh my god," Coulson said again in disbelief. He had been so busy yesterday that he hadn't even witnessed the usual pranks and tomfoolery that occurred in the offices over April Fool's Day. As much as those silly pranks got on his nerves, they were his warning every year that his birthday was the next day. This time, it had completely snuck up on him.

"Wow," he said, dragging a hand down his face. Then, dropping a fist down into the table with more of a clamor than he intended, he looked up at Pepper and said, "How on earth did you know?"

"Ah," Pepper said, turning back into the kitchen to grab something and hand it to him.

Coulson took the small postcard and read the brief message from his dentist, letting out a small laugh.

"Also, you're due for a cleaning," Pepper informed, and Coulson laughed louder.

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe you did this," he said quietly.

Pepper smiled. "It was my pleasure. I am just so grateful that you're letting me stay here. Once I knew it was your birthday, I just had to do it. Now make a wish!"

Coulson hesitated. He had stopped making wishes a long time ago and wondered, for a moment, if he even remembered how. Reaching back into his memory, he pulled out an oldie (but a goodie) and closed his eyes to make the wish. It felt silly, but in a good way. He smiled to himself as he opened his eyes and blew out the candle.

Pepper cheered and clapped her hands happily. Coulson looked up at her and shook his head amusedly at her enthusiasm. A moment later, she retrieved the cake from the table and moved it back into the kitchen. "We'll finish with that later," she said, and took her seat across from him, placing the paper napkin daintily in her lap.

Coulson's eye's had followed her into the kitchen and stayed fixed on the plate she had left behind. "I can't believe you made me a cake."

Pepper looked up from her napkin when she heard his voice catch slightly at those words. She watched him gulp once before he finally tore his eyes away and looked at her.

He shook his head once again as he said, "I don't think I've had a real birthday cake in...at least fifteen years."

Pepper's brows raised and her heart broke simultaneously.

"My mom used to make me one every year, but" his shoulders rose and fell softly, "...lost her in '93 and, almost every birthday since then, I've either been on assignment, or in medical, or hulled up at headquarters, or whatever else."

Again, Pepper's heart clenched at his words. She had never really appreciated the fact that she had a cake almost every year. Even if she didn't have a party with loads of friends, she at least found a way to celebrate on her own, and she was suddenly very grateful for a life that could afford such commonplace diversions. Apparently, Phil's life didn't work that way, and that fact devastated her to hear. Didn't anyone care enough for this man to give him one, simple, birthday cake?

"Your fellow agents don't do anything?" Pepper asked hopefully.

Phil's mouth arched into a frown and he just shook his head. "Most of them don't know my birthday. Those that do usually take me out for drinks or something."

"Oh," Pepper said optimistically. "Well that's nice of them."

Phil breathed out a little laugh and nodded his head sincerely. "Yeah, it is."

He looked at her with a gentle smile and his heart just soared. He hadn't felt that good in a long time, and he doubted that she would ever really understand what this gesture meant to him. "Thank you, Pepper," he quietly said after a short while.

She lifted her glass in salute, "You are very welcome, Phil."

* * *

Pepper frowned at him a while later as they peaceably enjoyed their dinner. "So how old were you?" There was a look of gentle concern on her face as Pepper asked the question, bringing the glass to her mouth.

"Eight," he answered, maneuvering kernels of corn onto his fork with the flat of his knife. "I don't remember much of it. The other driver was apparently stoned and barreled through the red-light. My dad died on impact. I spent a few weeks in the hospital and a few more months after that in physical therapy."

Pepper shook her head for him. "That must have been really hard."

Phil just shrugged with a considering nod, "It was harder on my mom. It was just me and her after that, and I know that it wasn't easy for her to raise me on her own."

Pepper smirked lightly at the comment. "Were you a problem child?"

"Oh!" Phil exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and wiping his mouth with the napkin. "In the _worst_ way!"

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," she said with a laugh.

Phil just shrugged, his customary smirk taking its place at the corner of his lips. "In my experience, the truth is often the hardest thing to believe."

Pepper squinted at that oddly mysterious comment, but Phil had returned to his plate, so he missed her reaction. With a little, dismissive shrug, Pepper moved the conversation along. "So she never got remarried, your mom?"

Phil shook his head, "I remember she went on a few dates when I was ten or so. But...she always came back early. Said he probably would have ruined her books anyway."

Pepper scowled slightly in confusion and Phil had to laugh.

"My mom and dad shared books all the time. He would always bend the pages to mark where he left off, and it drove my mom nuts," Phil explained with a fond smile. "I didn't really understand what she meant by that either for a long time. Then I realized it was her way of saying that she preferred to be single after my dad. She didn't really date much after that."

Phil paused and scraped the teeth of his fork across his mashed potatoes, deep in thought. Pepper quietly waited.

"There was a time when I really thought she needed someone," he went on, "I tried my best to grow up fast, you know? Be the man of the house...but I was really just a kid. I knew she needed something else, something that I couldn't give. Something beyond the obvious. A few times, when I was a teenager, I'd try to get her to go out on dates, but she'd always just smile and dismiss the thought, saying she liked her books the way they were. Wanted to keep the pages straight." That same, tender smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She could tell there was more, so again, Pepper stayed silent while Phil took a quiet sip of his drink.

He dabbed away the moisture from his lips with his napkin and then added, "But, when it was all said and done, I think she truly was happy. Somehow, she found a way to be content with just being alone."

"She had you," Pepper offered.

Phil just nodded. "Yeah," he said, "she did."

Pepper nodded slowly too, reveling in the deeply personal story she had just heard. The tender quality in his voice practically made her melt. He spoke of his mother with an almost reverent tone, as if she were a saint. Pepper's own mother had always said, "You can tell the quality of a man by the way he talks about his mother." It was true, Phil Coulson was a fine man, and his mother must have been someone truly special to have raised him almost entirely on her own.

She continued to observe him, with growing regard, while they both returned to their meals. Pepper was glad that he was the agent assigned to look after her through all of this. She was greatly enjoying getting to know him, meeting the Phil behind the Agent. She hadn't seen any photographs around the apartment, so she had no way of knowing if he was seeing anyone, but she found it hard to believe that no one would have scooped him up yet. He seemed like such a genuinely sweet guy.

"So, what about you?" Pepper asked after a while.

Phil paused before his fork could enter his mouth. "Do I bend my pages?" he asked with a joking twinkle in his eye.

"No," Pepper bellowed good-naturedly. "I mean do you do a lot of dating? Ever think of settling down?"

Phil nodded thoughtfully, letting the fork drop back to his plate. "I'd like to," he conceded, "but it's hard to find the right person. It's a pretty demanding job, working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Most women seem to have a fairly personal animosity towards this." He pulled his work cell from his pocket and rested it on the table.

"Oh," Pepper exclaimed, pulling her own phone from her purse and putting it by her plate. "I know what you mean."

Phil smirked at that. "I guess Stark keeps you pretty busy, too."

"Only 24/7. And it's really hard to explain things to your date when your boss calls you out of the blue and asks you to pick up some more bubble bath on your way 'home.'"

Phil chuckled graciously, "Well, at least you can try to explain. The best I get to do when my phone goes off is apologize profusely and say, 'it's classified.' I swear, after a while, those words start to sound a lot like, 'dump me, if you know what's good for you.'"

Pepper sighed with an understanding nod. "Well," she said, "I'm sure there's someone out there who can love a workaholic."

Phil lifted his glass, "God bless them, whoever they are."

Pepper clinked her glass against his in a quiet toast.

"Let's just hope she doesn't bend her book pages," Phil muttered before taking his drink, causing Pepper to snort out an unladylike laugh as she struggled not to spew her drink everywhere. Phil just laughed at her.

Later that evening, the pair enjoyed Pepper's delicious cake, Phil commenting on the mercy Pepper showed by only putting one candle in it, and Pepper responding with a slap to his shoulder. They each helped to put the leftovers in the refrigerator for later, and they did the dishes side by side, Pepper washing, Phil drying. They left the decorations in place as they both got ready for bed.

"Pepper," he said as she opened the door to his bedroom. "This was really the best birthday I've had in a very long time. Thank you."

Pepper smiled sincerely at him, "I liked it too, and you're welcome." She leaned in and placed a friendly kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Phil."

Phil looked into her eyes as she pulled away, concentrating on the sweet feeling that tingled on his cheek. "Goodnight, Pepper," he answered softly, then a moment later, forced himself to turn away and head to his couch.

They smiled once more at each other through the open doorway before Pepper turned off the lights and they both fell asleep.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Be sure to share your thoughts in the review section. The next chapter will be up soon!

**Author's Note:** I know that, technically, Phil _did_ introduce himself as "Agent Phil Coulson" in the first Iron Man movie. But for the sake of the story, both he and Pepper have forgotten that.

**Another Author's Note:** I also know that it could be disputed that Coulson's birthday is actually July 8th (because it's presented as such on his security badge in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), but I liked the idea of April Fool's Day serving as a warning signal to Phil every year, so I decided to stick with Clark Gregg's actual birthday for the date in this story.


	8. Late Nights

CHAPTER EIGHT: Late Nights

He woke up to the image of Pepper smiling down at him, hair illuminated a fiery red from the late afternoon light pouring in behind her. It was, quite possibly, the most pleasant awakening Phil Coulson had ever had.

He smiled at her. "Hi," he said, voice scratchy.

"Hi back. You know something?"

He brought up a hand to rub his sleepy eye, realizing for the first time that he must have fallen asleep on the couch after coming home from work. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. "What?" it was more of a moan than a word.

"You are really quiet when you sleep," she observed.

Coulson dropped the hand from his eye and scowled at her, a large smirk tweaking his lips. "You expected a song and dance number?" he joked.

"_No_," she replied, pulling out the pillow from beneath his head and dropping it on his face in retaliation. She watched as he chuckled his way out from under it and sat up. "But most people move around a little bit, even talk in their sleep. You just laid there like a statue. Not even a mutter. I've been told I flip around a little, sometimes even do a little talking, but you didn't even budge since the time your eyes closed."

Coulson wondered briefly who had told Pepper about her particular habits, even though his brain told him he didn't want to think about it. "I used to talk in my sleep when I was a kid," he said, feeling like he had to defend his status as a normal person for some reason.

"So what changed?"

He hiked his shoulders nonchalantly. "I joined S.H.I.E.L.D."

She smirked and looked at him sarcastically, "And they beat it out of you?"

Coulson tried to force a laugh, but he wasn't fast enough, and the delay spoke for him.

Horror came over Pepper's face. "Oh my god, Phil?"

"It was more like a training exercise."

"Oh my god!" She leapt from her perch on the armrest and turned to face him. "They _beat_ you?"

"Electric shock," he said, like that made it better somehow. He also stood, needing to find a way of repairing what apparent damage he had done by letting that information slip. "It's just this little machine and they hook you up to it at night. You drop the habit within the month and then they take you off of it." He didn't mention the fact that _his_ time on the machine had actually landed somewhere in the two to three month range. Somehow, he didn't think that would help to calm her mind.

Pepper still looked horrified. "That's terrible!"

Coulson shrugged. "S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, particularly those of higher rank, usually carry a lot of sensitive information in their heads. We can't afford to be talkative with our bedfellows at night."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. Coulson just shrugged. His old-fashioned turn of phrase had apparently distracted her from her previous worry, and he was glad to see the anxiety slip from her face. "Your _bedfellows_?" she repeated, amused. "And have we many of those, mi'lord?"

He smirked at her, slipping his hands coolly into his pockets, but giving no other reply.

Pepper cocked an eyebrow at him, both surprised and impressed by his mildly cheeky response. "Should I have been looking for notches in your bedpost, Agent Coulson?"

He breathed out a small laugh at her connotation. Jutting out his lower lip and hiking his shoulders lightly, Coulson gave a little shake of the head and said, "I think it's the shoulder holster that they find so appealing."

She was beaming at him now. "Oh, among other things, I'm _sure_." She took a step back and unabashedly appraised him from head to toe with an approving expression.

Coulson bowed his head as he laughed again, this time his face turning a happy shade of red. He rubbed tiny circles into the back of his neck as he smoothly changed the subject. "How long was I out?"

"Well, you got home around three, and it's going on five now so, a couple hours."

Coulson breathed out an exasperated sigh. He looked down at the coffee table and saw the pile of paperwork he had brought home. Ordinarily, he didn't bring his work home with him. He would stay in his office through all hours of the night until all of his work was finished. But today, he had been distracted by thoughts of Pepper. The only way he had been able to justify coming home early was by promising himself that he would be just as productive doing his paperwork at home as he would be at the office. And the first thing he had done when he came home was fall asleep for two hours. Not very efficient.

"You have a lot of work to do?" she asked, noticing his line of vision.

Coulson just nodded as he picked up the pile. "I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep. All of this has to be done by the morning." He walked over to the table and dropped the files onto its surface with a thud.

Pepper followed him as he carefully started organizing the files across the table. She nonchalantly drew her fingers over some of the exposed documents. "Is all of this about Tony?" she asked.

Phil looked over and noticed her actions for the first time. He closed the file she was viewing, and then silently apologized when she turned a slightly hurt expression towards him. "Yes," he answered.

"You still haven't found him?"

Phil sighed and shook his head. "We located his plane in Wichita Kansas, but there was no sign of Mr. Stark or his flight crew. Airport authorities tell us that the plane touched down without authorization from air control, so they sent a group of officials to confront the aircraft. By the time they got there, it had been abandoned. That's about as much as we know."

"So you think Tony is in Kansas?"

"Possibly. Either that, or he bailed ship in the Iron Man suit before the plane landed," Phil answered casually.

There was a silence as Pepper just watched him organize the papers. Her stare was off in another dimension. "Do you think he's okay?"

Phil's busy movements halted and he looked up at her. He could see the worry and fear in her eyes. It took her a few seconds before she could make eye contact with him, and when she finally did, something tugged at his heart strings. There was a part of him that broke at the expression on her face, and there was another part, a quieter part, that wished it were thoughts of him that affected her so deeply. Tony Stark didn't know how lucky he was. But above everything else, Phil just wanted her to smile again. He wanted that look of desperation to be far away from her sweet face.

"I don't know," he answered gently. Then he placed a hand on each of her arms and said, "But I'm going to find him for you, Pepper. I promise."

She seemed comforted by that and gave a relieved sigh. A tiny smile tugged at her lips and she brought a caring hand up to cup the side of his face. "Thank you, Phil."

He wanted to lean into the caress, but he didn't. Instead, he just nodded and then pulled himself out of her grasp. "I really need to get this done," he said by way of explanation, turning to sit at the table and begin his paperwork.

Pepper quietly obliged and left the agent in peace.

Several hours went by and he barely moved from that spot. Pepper sat quietly on the couch and read to herself, faithfully minding his coffee mug and making sure that it was full and warm whenever he needed it.

When the sun slipped completely from the sky and the quartered moon took its place, Pepper's energy was fading quickly. She came up behind him, but he didn't seem to notice. His head was perched against his raised fist, and his eyes remained glued to a page of text. She wordlessly touched his shoulders and started massaging the tense muscles beneath his dress shirt.

The moan from deep within his throat was instantaneous and his head tipped from its perch and rocked forward, exposing his neck to her administrations. She took the hint and moved her hands higher.

"Are you going to get any sleep tonight?" she asked.

Phil moaned again beneath her strong fingers. "What time is it?"

She cast a glance over her shoulder and squinted to read the soft blue display of the microwave in the kitchen. "Almost eleven," she answered.

It was a defeated sigh that came from his lips next as he lifted his head and looked at the remaining pile in front of him. "No, probably not," he lamented.

Pepper sighed too, equally disappointed. "Is there anything I can get you?" she asked, continuing her soothing message.

Phil shook his head, "I'll be fine. Just go to bed. You've already been so sweet to me tonight." With his right hand, he reached up and grasped her left, pulling it from his shoulder and bringing it to his mouth for a thankful kiss.

Pepper's other hand froze.

It had only been the ghost of a kiss, short, tender. His lips were so soft. The kiss was so light. It was so gentle that Pepper almost wouldn't have believed it actually happened were it not for the quiet noise it made and the bolt of lightning that shot through her body in response to it. She was caught off guard by both his action and by her response.

Phil tipped his head back enough to look up at her, and he gave her a gentle smile. "Go to bed, Pepper. It's late," he said again.

Pepper just nodded, stepping away from the table and pulling her hand along with her. "Okay," she said quietly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Sleep well," he replied, and turned back to his file.

Pepper moved hastily to the bedroom and closed the door. She wasn't totally sure what had just happened out there. All she knew was that her hand still tingled from where his lips had touched her. She wasn't sure if it was the gesture or what, but something about it took her completely by surprise. No man had ever kissed her hand before, not even Tony, but it sort of made her feel like a princess. Then again, Phil Coulson was an old fashioned gentleman if Pepper ever saw one, (the man used the word "bedfellows" in everyday language for heaven's sake,) and kissing a woman's hand was just the sort of thing a gentleman might do. That was it and nothing more, just another expression of his manners. Surely he didn't mean anything more by it.

After she had prepared for bed, Pepper opened the door, smiling and waving once at Coulson before climbing into bed. He had moved a small lamp to the table and had turned off all the other lights in the apartment, providing as much darkness for her as he could manage. She smiled at his thoughtfulness as she laid down on her side and watched him. The light from the lamp cast a large, slanted shadow of his profile against the wall. She studied the lines of his face and thought, not for the first time, about how very handsome he was. From the side, his features were strong and cut, it was a stark contrast to the gentleness and smoothness of his personality. She had gotten to see his strong side at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, so she knew there was that facet to him. But the Phil Coulson she was coming to know personally was a kind man, quiet and sincere.

She watched him for almost an hour, closing her eyes whenever he would look her way. He did it eleven times in the course of thirty minutes. Eventually, when he glanced over to the dark doorway, she didn't manage to open her eyes again, and she drifted off to sleep with the gentle rustling of papers and occasional scrapping of his pen as her nighttime lullaby.

* * *

There's chapter eight! Let me know what your highlights were (or even the parts you didn't care for so much). I love hearing from you guys! Expect the next chapter soon!


	9. Relaxing

CHAPTER NINE: Relaxing

It was eight o'clock the following night when Phil finally returned home from work. "There you are," Pepper said, sitting on the couch with her feet curled up beneath her. She had a half-eaten bowl of stew in her hands and the TV flickered ghostly grays and blues across her face in the dark room. She hiked her shoulders and shushed herself when she noticed that he was on the phone. Pepper muted the TV.

"That's entirely irrelevant to the situation," he said into his phone, nodding a quick greeting to the woman on his couch before heading into the kitchen. "QNBT14 is barely out of testing and I did _not_ authorize its use on our man. My agents were getting results using their own methods and I fail to see how-"

_Short pause._

"I don't appreciate being interrupted, _agent_." Coulson's tone was abrasive and stern. Each word was so sharp, it could saw through cedar, and in that moment, Pepper was grateful that she was not on the receiving end of Coulson's 'boss voice'. "Who ordered you to administer that drug?"

_Pause._

"Can you verify that?"

_Pause._

"I want to see that documented in triplicate and sitting on my desk first thing in the morning. And Delancy? The next time I find you operating without proper orders, I'll have your ass working in Records for the rest of your days. Understood? ...Good. Now put Barton back on the phone...Clint? Get his statements put on record and make sure Hill knows. I want him taken off this case." Coulson reemerged from the kitchen, holding a bowl of stew to match Pepper's. He gingerly sat down on the couch so as not to spill, letting out an exasperated sigh.

When he was comfortably situated, he responded, "I don't know. Put him on Blake's task force. Don't call me unless it's important." With that, Coulson aggressively pressed the _End Call_ button and slammed his phone down onto the coffee table, putting the bowl down next to it. He sighed and flopped backwards in exhaustion. Rocking his head to the side, he looked at Pepper. She was cocking an eyebrow at him with a tiny smirk. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied. "Tough day at work?"

"Uhh," Phil groaned, rubbing his forehead in a fatigued gesture. "Insubordinate little...idiot almost compromised everything."

"Oh no," Pepper said, brow furrowing.

He sighed again and looked back at her. "It's fine though," he said tiredly. "We got it under control."

Pepper narrowed her eyes at him. "You look exhausted. How late were you up last night?" she asked.

Phil looked to the side. The lamp was still on the table from where he had stayed up doing his paperwork. Was that just last night? It felt like ages ago. "I'm not sure... It was late."

"You need to go to sleep."

"I need to eat."

"Eat something, and then go straight to bed."

Phil shook his head sadly. "I have to send an email too, and then review the-"

"No," Pepper interrupted firmly. "You're running on fumes, Phil. You need to relax."

He gave a half smile. "You'll find that S.H.I.E.L.D. agents aren't very good at that."

"Relaxing?"

He just nodded in response.

"Well," Pepper said, "I'll just have to teach you, then."

Phil cocked an eyebrow and Pepper just smiled.

"Eat your stew," she said.

Coulson wordlessly obeyed and the two sat in peaceful silence as they ate their dinner. After a few minutes, Pepper got so distracted watching the TV that she didn't notice Phil pull out his cell phone. The bright light from the screen illuminated his face in the dark room. She quickly snatched the device away from him.

"Umm," was all he could say as he thought of how to respond.

"You're done eating," Pepper noted plainly, slipping the phone into the space between her thigh and the armrest of the couch.

His eye-line followed the device until it was out of sight. He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes at her nefarious smile. She knew he wouldn't reach for it there. The phone was lost to him. "Miss Potts, it's very important that I send this email. I have work that I need to do."

"It can't wait until you're in the office tomorrow?"

He shook his head. "No it cannot."

"Not even if your apartment caught on fire?"

"Excuse me?"

"What if your whole building was on fire and you were unable to send your email? Would it be possible for you to send it from the office then?"

Coulson stared at her for a solid five seconds without moving, then, "Please don't set fire to my house."

She laughed and punched his leg good-naturedly. "I'm just saying, if you're willing to make an exception for an emergency, you should make an exception for this. I mean look at you, Phil. You're exhausted! You have so many bags under your eyes, you look like the airport luggage claim."

Coulson scowled at the comment. "Gee, thanks," he said with a sarcastic shake of the head.

"And you forgot to call me Pepper," she added.

"No I didn't. When did I do that?"

"Just a second ago. You called me Miss Potts again."

He tilted his head slightly as he tried to remember. Meanwhile, Pepper just added, "See? You're tired, Phil. You're overworked. You forgot we were friends."

He just scoffed and shook his head. Her concern was kind of endearing.

"Here," she said, turning on the cushion to face him more. "Take off your jacket."

His brows arched slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you're obviously just going to get on your computer if I say 'go to sleep' and then leave you out here alone. So we're just going to have to make you relax some other way first. And you can't do that while you're still in uniform, so take off the jacket."

"It's not exactly a uniform," he commented even as he obeyed.

"It is to you," she answered and eyed him with a smile when the expression on his face told her she was right. He handed her the jacket and she tossed it on the floor, noticing the small grimace on his face when she did so.

"Shoes," she said, and a moment later he had kicked both of them to the floor. She looked down at the black leather of the agent's shoulder holster. It was a sleek, stark contrast to the crisp whiteness of his dress shirt and it accentuated his broad shoulders. She smiled and nodded slowly. It was indeed a sexy look. "I think you might be right about that thing," she acknowledged, eliciting a light chuckle from him. She moved to undo the straps, but his hands stilled her.

He watched her as she silently withdrew her hands and then he removed the weapon and holster himself. He laid the items on the coffee table after checking the safety on his gun. Then he sat back against the couch.

Pepper moved towards him again slowly. "Now this," she said quietly, reaching for his tie. This time, he let her, keeping his eyes always fixed on hers, even as she concentrated on her own hands. She was surprised that they shook slightly. It was something in the way he was looking at her. She grabbed hold of the silk knot and gently pulled the tie loose, slipping the fabric out from around his collar in a smooth, long movement.

Phil inhaled deeply.

Pepper wasn't as careless with the tie as she had been with the jacket. She folded it twice and then laid it on the table next to the gun. Turning back to Phil, she scooted slightly closer to him, returning her hands to his neckline. This time, her fingers quietly undid the top button of his shirt. She noticed, but pretended not to, when Phil subtly gulped underneath her movements. Pepper's hands hesitated a moment, and then decided to undo the second button, her eyes lingering on the light layering of hair that was revealed on his chest. When she finally tore her eyes away, she found him staring at her, a heated look in his gaze. Pepper gulped too.

She glanced down at his waist, her eyes landing on the buckle of his belt. Looking back up at him, she saw him wait patiently, watching to see what she would do. He inclined his head the slightest as he saw her slowly reach for the belt. _God help me,_ he thought silently.

Her hands gingerly grabbed the leather and slipped it from the metal buckle. The fingers that were not undoing the hook from the hole were sprawled out like the legs of a spider, careful to not touch anything but the belt itself. She finally disconnected the strap from the buckle.

As she pulled on one end, Phil felt the leather circle his waist, eliciting a satisfying hiss as it snaked through the loops of his pants. He hadn't known such a gesture could be so intoxicating, but he certainly knew it now.

Pepper held the belt in her hands, looking down at it, keeping her gaze away from his. The leather was warm to her touch. After a moment, she moved away from him slowly. "There," she said as she set the belt down onto the table and sat back against the couch. "Now you can relax."

Coulson didn't know what to say. After several long seconds, he simply managed to form the words, "Thank you."

"Give it an hour," she instructed, finding the remote control to the TV and unmuting it, refusing to look back into those intense eyes. "Just relax for an hour, and if you still need to get work done, then you can."

Phil watched her for a few more seconds before finally turning his attention to the television. There was an exceedingly gorgeous woman sitting next to him, and he felt as if every inch of his body was noticing so. Exercising all his strength and self control as a trained secret agent, Phil kept his eyes on the screen.

After thirty minutes, both of them had survived the intense moment and had managed to relax back into the couch. By the end of the hour, both pairs of eyes had fallen shut, and the credits to the TV program scrolled quietly on the screen.

* * *

Sometime later, he awoke to the smell of lilacs flooding his senses.

He became aware of a weight on his shoulder and, as he opened his eyes, he found that it was Pepper's head, fallen gently against him in peaceful slumber. Coulson's cheek was resting against the crown of her head, and their breaths were almost in unison. (An amendment: _This_ was the most pleasant awakening Phil Coulson had ever had.)

He noticed her arm draped carelessly across his leg. She was so beautiful. Even her arms were stunning. Coulson cast a silent glance over at her, though he couldn't see her face from his vantage point anyway. He looked back at her hand.

A bold thought entered his mind. He debated it for several pregnant moments. Phil suddenly felt like he was back on his high school prom date, the youthful pounding in his heart simply building the more he toyed with the idea. Even after mustering up the courage, he still felt slightly nervous as he finally committed to the decision.

He moved his hand to gently cover hers as she slept.

Pepper stirred in response, squeezing his leg slightly, breathing in deeply and nuzzling her head farther up on his shoulder.

Phil couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as she snuggled against him. He couldn't have asked for a better reaction out of her. He nodded his cheek gently against her hair and let himself revel in the moment.

He inhaled deeply, mindful not to disturb her with his movements. God, he needed to be more careful. He could feel himself treading deeper and deeper into dangerous waters with this woman. She seemed to have an affect on him not many people did. Watching her practically undress him several hours ago had been an extreme test of his restraint, and he was still not totally sure how he had managed to endure it without making a fool of himself. Now, with her head set lightly on his shoulder and her hand resting quietly underneath his, that feeling of giddy excitement was returning to his veins. He took another breath to calm himself down.

Eventually, he knew they would have to move. They couldn't stay there forever. Coulson debated his options. He wondered if it was _really_ possible to pick up and carry a sleeping woman without waking her, like people did in the movies. He had done it once or twice before, and it worked then; but those situations were usually influenced by significant blood loss or exposure to toxins of some kind. If he had to take a guess, he'd say those reasons were probably why his companions had never woken up in transit before. He had never tried it with just a regular case of sleepiness, though. He was nervous that he couldn't pull it off.

Which would be more awkward, he wondered, for him to wake her up now and have her discover that she had been sleeping on him (and that he had been letting her)? Or to try to move her to the bed, with the _potential_ of either succeeding or waking her somewhere in the process? He decided that, while the first option would be undoubtedly awkward and hard to explain, the second had at least the _hope_ of working.

His mind made up, Coulson slowly started to move out from underneath her embrace. It took some work, but he finally managed to maneuver her into his arms and he stood up. Pepper's head flopped tiredly back onto his shoulder, her face turned up towards his.

Coulson looked down at her, feeling ever inch of her body that was being held tightly against his own. Her face was just inches away from his. He could feel the steady puffs of air leaving her parted lips and crashing against his cheek. He let the proximity linger, staring into her face by the dim glow of the TV. She was so beautiful.

Phil didn't know why it should surprise him, but he was shocked all the same to discover that, in that moment, with everything in him, he wanted to kiss. And for several long moments, he considered it. The slightest of movements, the smallest retraction of his arms and the tiniest dip of his head, and her lips would be his...

But his propriety sighed, and he tore his gaze away from her perfect mouth. He knew she would wake up, and there would be no possible excuse he could give to explain a kiss. And that wasn't even to mention, of course, that kissing a sleeping person in real life was not exactly as romantic as it was portrayed in fairytales. In fact, Coulson acknowledged that it was more than a little bit creepy and totally lacked in the consent department.

No, kissing her now would not be a good idea. It was tempting, but he had learned through the years how to deny himself such temptations, no matter how difficult it may be. And so, ever the gentleman, Phil Coulson locked his eyes straight ahead and gingerly carried the woman in his arms to his bedroom.

He was grateful that she had not made the bed that morning, because it made getting her underneath the covers easier. When he had tucked her in as much as he dared, he looked once more at her sleeping face. A small, blissful smile graced her lips and she had a single lock of hair that had fallen across her face in the move. Coulson smiled softly to himself and started to reach out to clear away the hair.

Pepper shifted quietly in her sleep and gave a little moan, "Tony."

Coulson's hand froze.

It hovered less than an inch away from her face, but he didn't dare move it any closer, or pull it away. He was caught off guard by the intense pang that hit his chest at that instant. His brow furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand, leaving the lock of hair lying haphazardly across her face. He frowned at her in the darkness and he backed slowly away from the bed, recoiling away from the invisible blow that had been dealt to his gut at her words.

He turned quickly and left the bedroom. His reaction had been uncontrollable, and it concerned him deeply. It was no secret that Stark and Pepper were involved. Why then had he been so surprised and disturbed by her quiet slip of the tongue? Did he actually think that Pepper Potts cared anything for him? _Him?_

Coulson huffed as he crashed back onto the couch, not even caring that he hadn't applied the usual sheets and blankets. And if his eyes started to sting and grow moist in that moment, he blamed it on exhaustion.

The next morning, Pepper awoke and stretched lazily in the big bed. She turned on her side and instantly frowned. That was strange. Someone had closed the door between them during the night.

* * *

Hello friends! I know that the last chapter was a tad short, so hopefully this one helps make up for that. Please let me know what you think of this chapter!

**Author's Note:** Delancy, the agent to whom Coulson is talking in the beginning of this chapter, is one of the two agents who check the perimeter breach in the first Thor movie while Thor is trying to recover his hammer. Good for him. I guess Coulson didn't have to follow through on his threat to demote him to Records. ;)

**Another Author's Note:** QNBT16 is the name of the "brand new and extremely potent truth drug" from the Pilot episode of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. What appears in this chapter is its predecessor by two generations, QNBT14, which is not yet to the approved par of the 16 variant.


	10. Shattered Realities

CHAPTER TEN: Shattered Realities

The next night, Pepper was getting worried. Phil had been gone to work whenever she woke up and he had barely communicated all day. Her efforts to text him had been met with only the briefest of responses. She got the impression that he didn't want to speak with her for some reason.

Pepper wracked her brain, trying to discover what she had done to upset him. Perhaps he was mad at her for distracting from his work last night? But that seemed petty, particularly for him. Maybe he was just having a bad day and was stressed. It was possible that the agent was just tired and was responding curtly because of that. Maybe it wasn't her at all. But...maybe it was. Might she have overstepped some boundaries last night?

_Hmm... _she thought, replaying a few of the previous night's events in her head. That one might actually be likely. Perhaps she was outstaying her welcome, or in the very least, becoming too friendly with her host.

She was already in her pajamas and about to send him one more text (this one containing some sort of apology for making him uncomfortable) when she heard the front door open. She looked to the clock on the nightstand. It was almost ten o'clock, nearly a full five hours past Phil's normal arrival time. She came out of the bedroom and watched him lock the door and tiredly drop his keys onto the table in the entryway.

"Hey," she greeted from the doorway. She was surprised by how relieved she felt seeing him. It wasn't like him to stay at work so late, and his last text had been at two o'clock. She was nervous something had happened to him. But there he was, safe and sound.

He barely glanced at her as he headed into the kitchen. "Evening," he said.

Pepper's brow furrowed and she followed him. "Hard day at work?" she asked, watching him get a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water from the sink.

He downed the glass in almost one swig. Leaning a hand onto the counter top, he shrugged at her, finally looking her in the eye. "No harder than usual."

"Oh," Pepper said, a little surprised. The commonplace, pleasant flash in his eye was gone and his lips folded into a soft frown at her, like he was challenging her about something. "Well, I just thought, since I didn't hear from you most of the day-"

"I was in meetings most of the day, trying to find your Mr. Stark, so I'm sorry if I was unable to communicate to your satisfaction."

_Your Mr. Stark_, Pepper repeated inwardly. What was _that_ about? "No, it's fine," she said, "I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."

"Everything is fine, Miss Potts."

The air between them was punched with his words. A silence drew out in the room after his use of that name. This one wasn't a tired slip of the tongue like it had been last night. It was a decided, deliberate use of the title, a whiplash into the formality they used to harbor with one another. They both felt it.

Lowering his head slightly, Coulson put the glass in the sink and started moving past her, "Now if you'll excuse me," he carefully stepped around her so as not to brush shoulders. "I will change quickly and then you can go to bed."

Coulson entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. There was a part of him that felt guilty about the way he was treating her. But, there was another part that vividly remembered her whispered call the night before, and the pang it had sent to his chest. Coulson couldn't afford to get familiar with a woman who was involved with someone else, especially if that someone was Tony Stark. There was no way he could compete with that. It was better if he just remained Agent Coulson and she remained Miss Potts. That's all.

After changing into a t-shirt and shorts, Coulson quickly brushed his teeth and then exited the bedroom. "All yours," he said, not maintaining eye contact past a short glance.

Pepper lingered in the doorway for a while, wondering if there was anything else she could say. She wasn't sure what she had done to merit this sterile treatment, but whatever it was, it clearly had upset Phil...deeply.

But he was already settling into the couch and pulling the blanket up over his legs. Perhaps tonight wasn't the best night to discuss it.

"Well, goodnight," she said, promising herself that they would talk in the morning. Maybe he would have cooled down by then.

"Goodnight," he responded. His tone wasn't quite as curt as it had been in the kitchen, but he still didn't look at her when he spoke.

Pepper left the door open between them and then climbed into bed. She cast another glance through the doorway and watched as he turned towards the back of the couch, and then she flipped off the lamp.

Sleep did not come easily that night, though. Pepper woke up half past midnight and was unable to fall back asleep. She lay motionless in the bed, hoping that she would be able to trick the sandman into targeting her again. But as the minutes added up, it became more and more obvious that she wasn't going to fall asleep any time soon. She stared at the ceiling and a million thoughts ran through her head. She was worried about Phil. She was stressed with work. She was scared for Tony. Pretty much any thought or concern that could be plaguing her at that moment was. Giving a frustrated sigh, she rolled over and grabbed her phone. Maybe it would help if she read a little before bed. Maybe then she would get sleepy again.

The hour was heading toward two o'clock when she started to notice some intense breathing coming from the couch. Pepper's brow lowered in concern. She turned off the screen of her phone so that she was not blinded by its light, and as her eyes adjusted, she could just barely make out the disturbed movements of Coulson's form. He jerked his head to the left and right in a tumultuous rhythm and his chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

That was strange. Pepper had now spent enough nights with the agent to know that he slept like a statue. And she still remembered the conversation she had had with him about his special S.H.I.E.L.D. sleep training. Whatever was upsetting his sleep, it must be something truly horrible.

Overcome with concern, Pepper turned on the lamp and sat up. She had to go wake him up. She had to stop whatever horrible nightmare was attacking him. But, the light did the job.

Coulson bolted upright and his chest continued to pant his breaths in and out. He blinked a few times before turning to look at the source of the light. When his eyes met Pepper's, all color blanched from her skin. For several terrible seconds, she saw something in Agent Phil Coulson's eyes that she had never seen there before: pure, unadulterated terror.

This wasn't about whatever upset him yesterday. This was different. This was severe.

Coulson frantically ripped the blanket to the side and stood from the couch, practically running into the kitchen. Pepper quickly got out of bed, getting tangled for a moment in her own blanket, and followed him.

Even before she rounded the corner, she could hear the faucet water running. "Phil, what's wrong?" she asked, worriedly. Coulson stood at the kitchen sink and desperately scrubbed his hands beneath its stream. Pepper looked closely at his hands, looking for whatever it was he was trying to wash off, but she saw nothing. His hands appeared perfectly clean.

At that moment, Pepper noticed for the first time that the water was steaming as it poured onto his hands. Diving towards the sink, she turned the handle to a cooler setting. "God, Phil! Are you trying to burn your skin off?" she sharply rebuked, slipping a finger into the stream of water to make sure it was no longer scalding him.

But he took little notice of her, still scrubbing his hands urgently. She looked up into his face and saw how his complexion was beet red and his face was contorted to hold back tears. Immediately, the harshness of her previous tone dissipated. Reaching out a timid hand, she touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Phil?" she asked, searching him for a reaction.

This time, he seemed to hear her. He turned off the water and held his hands out to stare at them. They were shaking. Clutching onto the front of the sink, Coulson gave a desperate sigh and bowed his head down until it was resting on his hands.

Pepper started to rub soothing circles into his back, noticing for the first time that his light gray shirt was now a dark one, drenched in sweat from his fitful slumber.

"He was so young." Phil's voice sounded tiny, like an ant crawling out from the wreckage of a battlefield.

Pepper's heart broke at the sound of that voice. Never before had the man sounded so wounded, so vulnerable. "Who?" she asked quietly, continuing to rub his back.

"He was married too. With a daughter."

"Who was?"

Coulson lifted his head and turned to look at Pepper. She saw the face of a haunted man, and she had trouble distinguishing what was sweat and what were tears.

He had a sudden look of clarity flash in his eye when he saw her, like he discovered for the first time that he was speaking, and noticed for the first time who was listening to him. His expression fell into a hopeless sigh as he dipped his head again to his hands.

"It's classified," was his only response, and Pepper was left to just watch his shoulders shake in quiet sobs.

The soft circles persisted into Coulson's back and Pepper was at a loss as to how she could possibly help him. She wondered what sort of memory could have elicited such a response from the unflappable agent. She shivered at the thought of her own question. It must have been horrific. That was the only explanation. Pepper found herself wishing that she could somehow lift those memories from the poor man's mind and throw them away forever. She wanted to do something, anything, that would make his pain stop.

After several minutes, Coulson's tears subsided and his breathing returned to normal. He stood upright and wiped at his eyes and cheeks with his hands. "I'm sorry," he said after awhile, too ashamed to look up at her just yet. "No one else is usually here when this sort of thing happens."

Pepper frowned at his quiet confession. "Does it happen a lot?"

He looked up at her with an almost childlike expression (and it nearly broke her heart), giving a small nod. "Sometimes," he conceded softly.

She narrowed her eyes at him sympathetically and squeezed his shoulder slightly. "What brought it on?" Pepper asked.

Coulson sighed and shook his head. "Memories. Too many memories. Happened a lifetime ago, but...every once in a while..." he shook his head again and looked away.

Pepper offered him a sad smile. She had never considered the toll a job like his could have on someone's psyche, but it was obviously a heavy burden to bear. "Come on," she said, gently urging him out of the kitchen. "Let's get you a fresh shirt."

He followed her willingly and sat on the bed as she retrieved a clean t-shirt from his drawer. Completely drained of his usual sense of modesty, Coulson peeled the soaked shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner of the room. He reveled in the feel of the cool air on his overheated skin.

When Pepper turned around with the new shirt, her breath caught in surprise. Her eyes were immediately locked on his chest and broad shoulders. His damp skin shimmered in the light with every breath and movement he made.

When he reached for the fresh shirt, Pepper moved away from him slightly. "Wait," she said, dropping the shirt to the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. When she returned, she held a damp washcloth in her hands. "Here," she said, sitting next to him on the bed. Without further explanation, she started to wipe the cool cloth over his back.

Coulson inhaled deeply at the pleasant sensation and bowed his head in relaxation.

Pepper gave careful attention to her work, mindful to tend to every inch of his back. Her eyes were locked on the numerous scars that had been etched into his skin through the years. A couple of them were obviously bullet wounds. A number of them were large gashes, like from a blade or shard of some kind. He had a pretty big patch of scarred skin on his shoulder, stretching down his side. It looked like he had been dragged across some rough surface or something. But the one that bothered her the most was a series of thin scars, almost surgical in appearance. These ones were tight in their pattern and methodical in their spacing. They started on his shoulder blades and stretched down his side and around to his abdomen. These scars looked intentional, like someone was _trying_ to put him through pain...and probably succeeded. That thought sent shivers down her spine and simultaneously made her sick to her stomach.

She nudged Coulson and caused him to turn to face her so that she could have access to his chest. She liked his chest better because there were fewer scars. (Well, there might also be a couple other reasons why she liked it.) She wiped over his shoulders and collarbone. Keeping her movements slow and relaxing, she drew the cloth down over each of his pectoral muscles, watching as they twitched underneath her movements. She followed the trail of his hair down the center of his chest to his abdomen, and she smiled softly when he involuntarily flexed there too. He was an incredibly handsome man, and she had never before appreciated his well-toned physique, but she was certainly appreciating it now.

Feeling his gaze upon her, Pepper looked up and locked eyes with him. His expression had sobered and there was a deep intensity in his eyes. He took the rag from her and left it laying on the bed beside him. He replaced it with his own hand, slipping his fingers around hers and squeezing gently.

Pepper's eyes dropped to watch their two hands dance. His skin was slightly darker than hers and rough against her smoothness. The hair of her arm stood on end while he gently moved his long fingers over and around her own before finally diving them in to intertwine. When Pepper looked up again, Phil was steadily leaning towards her.

She didn't move. She only watched him, caught by the intensity in his gaze as he closed in on her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut just as his lips were almost on hers. She felt his free hand gently land on the small of her back as he nuzzled the tip of his nose lightly against her cheek before claiming her lips with his own. Pepper closed her eyes.

It was a slow kiss, a gentle kiss, but she could taste the hunger in it. His mouth was attentive, but patient, always giving her opportunities to enter him, but never initiating that himself.

Up until this point, Pepper had managed to remain still, quietly responding to his mouth, but not moving otherwise. But the kiss was intoxicating, and Phil's lips were so persuasive. She lost the control.

Freeing her fingers from his tender grasp, she placed both hands low on his chest, reveling in the firmness she felt there. Mindful that he should not confuse her caress for a rejection, she quickly drew her hands upward, a sensual, languid movement up his entire chest. She felt the muscles tighten beneath her touch and a low moan rumbled in his throat. Pepper moved her hands over the crest of his shoulders, up either side of his neck, and then finally behind to cradle the back of his head. From that position, she pulled Phil into her more and deepened the kiss.

Another moan escaped his lips as their tongues finally collided. His arms wrapped around her and he spread his fingers wide over her back, pulling her against him. He wanted to explore her, touch her everywhere, but he kept his hands on her back and focused instead on her mouth. There was a fire beneath her kiss, and Phil was burning in it.

When she dropped one of her hands down to feel his arm, Phil took the vacancy by slipping his own hand up to grasp the back of her neck, deepening the kiss by an impossible degree. His other hand left her back to let itself get lost in the tangles of her hair. God, he loved her hair so much. He released her neck and let his hand fall down the front of her, stopping once to indulgently cup her breast.

Now it was Pepper's turn to moan in response. She pushed herself further into the kiss until Phil was forced to slowly fall backwards onto the bed. She crossed over him with one leg, comfortably straddling him. The contact of their lips was never broken and her hair fluttered down to surround that kiss in a fiery red canopy. She took control over the kiss. Reaching a hand up to softly grab his chin, she pulled his jaw gently down to open his mouth fully beneath her. She held it that way as she kissed him, and he was able to do nothing but accept her into him and respond to her talented tongue.

It was the most mind-numbingly electric kiss Phil had ever had, and his hands moved over her whole body hungrily in response. He let out a low moan in praise of her skill.

That moan was unlike any sound she had ever heard from him. It was deep. It was guttural. It vibrated in the kiss. And it sounded like Tony.

Stunned by that thought, Pepper pulled sharply away from the kiss. She held herself away from him with a single hand placed over his heart.

He opened his eyes in shock at the sudden break of contact. Almost completely out of breath, Phil's chest heaved heavily up and down beneath her hand. As soon as he saw the mortified look in her eye, he knew he had overstayed his welcome.

"I'm sorry," he gasped.

Pepper too struggled to regain control of her breathing. She scowled at him in confusion, bringing a hand up to brush her wild hair out of her face. "What?" she asked, breathless.

Coulson was already shaking his head beneath her. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I shouldn't have-"

"Don't be ridiculous," she huffed. "I'm the one who's on top of you, Phil."

His cheeks were still flushed from the kiss and his lips were swelling slightly, but he moved himself out from underneath her and dropped his eyes away from her gaze. "But I know I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong and now I've made you uncomfortable."

"Phil," she said, trying to get him to look at her. "Phil! It wasn't wrong, I just..." Pepper tried to think of an explanation. She didn't want Phil blaming himself for the kiss. She was just as responsible for it as he was.

Coulson stood from the bed and grabbed the long-forgotten t-shirt, slipping his arms through the sleeves. "You just thought of Tony," he finished quietly, pulling the shirt down into place.

Pepper was silent as he finally looked her in the eye again. Now it was her turn to fall away from his gaze shamefully.

He tried to ignore the pang that hit his heart at her silent confession. But he couldn't begrudge her. He knew about her relationship with Tony. Hell, the whole world knew about it, which was exactly why he shouldn't have kissed her in the first place. Now, all he really wanted was to get out of that room.

He started to move towards the door, but she caught him by the arm. "Wait, Phil," she said, standing and slipping both of her hands down to hold one of his. "I'm so sorry. If...if only things were different."

Coulson gulped once as he pulled his hand out from her grasp. "But they aren't, are they," it was a question, but there was no ounce of hope in his tone. He knew the answer to that just as well as she did.

Once again, Pepper couldn't look him in the eye. She simply bowed her head, and shook it ever so subtly. When she looked up again, the door was closing between them, and it stayed that way the rest of the night.

* * *

Alright friends, this was a biggie! I am SO curious to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Please let me know what you thought in the reviews!


	11. Not So Easily Discarded

Guess who finally has some time to update! I'm so sorry for the delay. I've been in a time of transition lately, but I finally managed to find a few spare moments to get this chapter posted. Thank you all for your faithful readership despite these delays. This is quite possibly the longest chapter of the story, so I hope that makes up for it's tardiness to some degree. Enjoy!

Warning: Mild language and descriptions of violence in this chapter.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: Not So Easily Discarded

She heard the door and the voice simultaneously. "Pepper, get up."

Pepper scowled and tiredly brought a hand up to rub her eyes when he rudely flipped on the light. She inhaled deeply and propped herself up onto her elbow. "What's going on?" She asked in a sleep-heavy voice.

Coulson went straight to the closet and pulled out a suit. "Hostiles have taken a museum and are holding civilians hostage in an effort to draw Iron Man out. Looks like it's working."

Pepper sat up in bed, now fully awake. "Tony is there?"

"Yep," he said blankly. "Suit's in bad shape, but he's there. They need backup."

Pepper flung the covers to the side and got out of bed. "Is that where we're headed?" she asked, grabbing some clothes from her boxes and heading towards the bathroom.

"No," Coulson answered, turning and throwing the suit onto the bed as he undressed. "That's where _I'm_ headed. _You_ are going to be dropped off at HQ until all of this is sorted out."

"But what if I can help?" came her muffled voice from behind the bathroom door.

"Pepper, you're still a civilian and I'm not taking you to a battlefield. That's not happening."

* * *

"Change of plans," he said, dropping the phone from his ear as they sped down the street. "I'm taking you to a battlefield."

"Really?" Pepper asked, holding onto the armrest as Coulson took a sharp turn. "But I thought-"

"They've called me to the scene 'without delay'. I don't have a choice." He looked over his shoulder as he aggressively changed lanes to avoid slow traffic. "But you're staying in the car with your head down until I or another agent comes for you."

"Or Tony," Pepper added without thought.

"Yeah," Coulson echoed lowly. "Or him."

Pepper glanced over at the man driving, regretting her quick correction. Usually, there was more processing time between her thoughts and her words, but she failed to apply that filter this time. Insults and injuries were both ghastly things, especially when applied together, and there was no reason why Phil should have to feel any worse than he probably already did.

Pepper could still taste last night's kiss on her lips. Something clenched in her heart when she recalled the wounded look in his eyes as he pulled his hand from hers. Pepper had been growing rather fond of those eyes and hated the idea of their brightness being dimmed on account of her. In the whirlwind of the morning, they hadn't discussed the night before, but Pepper was determined to do so at some point. "Phil," she began. "Are we-"

"One thing at a time, Miss Potts." He heard the heavy sigh at his use of the title, and in his periphery, he could see her turn to look out the window. He didn't mean to cut her down like that. He reverted back to the formality more for his sake than anyone else's. He needed the reminder. He needed to keep his thoughts and feelings in check, and that type of compartmentalization helped him achieve that. But he also didn't want her to think he was trying to push her friendship away. That was the last impression he wanted to give.

"Pepper." He had nothing else to say. No extra comment to attach. He simply spoke her name. That was all.

And it was all she needed. Pepper looked back over at him and smiled softly. He hazarded a short glance to catch the smile, and returned it with a tiny smirk of his own.

Pepper was just about to reach her hand over to touch his as it rested on the center console, but he pulled it away that instant to grab hold of the steering wheel.

"Hold on," he said, and cranked the wheel to the right.

Within five minutes, they were pulling up to the museum. Coulson barely put the vehicle in park before he was climbing out.

"What about me?" Pepper asked.

Coulson turned back and bent to see her through the opened door. "I told you, stay in the car. Keep your head down and don't move."

"But what if-"

"In the car, Pepper," he commanded firmly, closing the door and heading towards his team.

Aside from the leagues of government vehicles, the scene looked like any other day. The bright morning sun was just reaching a steady height. The grass, which could probably use a mower in the next couple of days, was swaying in the light breeze. There was a crispness to the early April air. It would have been a nice day for practically any outdoor activity.

Except for combat, that is. It was never a nice day for combat.

"Situation," Coulson ordered as Barton approached him.

The marksman handed his superior an earwig and gave the briefing. "Perimeter secured at a block out. We've got five hostiles: identify themselves as 'The Discarded.' Apparently they were some of the leading employees of Stark Industries' weapons production. It fits with our intel from the bombing suspect. My guess is: They're all a little pissed Stark laid most of them off when he shut down his weapons division a couple months ago. They want revenge."

"Threat level?" Coulson asked, inserting the small communication device into his ear.

"Heavily armed with Stark tech, some of it's stuff that never even made it to distribution. Got hostages, too."

"How many?"

"Fourteen."

"Any of 'em kids?" Coulson asked, already dreading the answer.

Barton nodded solemnly, "Eight, sir."

"Damn," was Coulson quiet reply. He gave a soft huff. It was always worse when kids were involved. "How are sights in there?"

"Tricky. Lots of walls and tall exhibits blocking my lines," the archer informed. "The last I was in there, I had shots for two of the hostiles coming from the north angle, but the other three were pretty well concealed."

"Tandem units?"

"North's nothing to brag about, but the other angles are even worse. I was the _only_ unit with a shot."

Coulson nodded absently. "Then we need to draw them out. Where's Stark?"

"He's in there now, trying negotiations."

"He on coms?"

Hawkeye gave a curt nod.

"Then call your position, Barton."

Hawkeye smirked. It was his favorite thing about working with Coulson. Other higher-ups wanted to manhandle every part of an operation. But Coulson trusted his judgment and always let him choose his own angles. Barton pointed to a rooftop and Coulson turned to examine it.

"Fine," the senior agent said, "Get a second unit on the opposite rooftop. I want one more to stick with the northern angle. Give me one unit on _this_ street and... one on that one over there."

"Yes sir." Barton said and left to carry out his orders.

Coulson turned back to the museum and raised a finger to press against his ear. "Mr. Stark, good morning. This is Agent Coulson, do you read me?"

_"Like Tolstoy,"_ came the radioed response. _"And I'd say you have a pretty low standard for mornings there, Agent."_

Coulson smirked. "You get used to it."

_"So are you the guy they sent in to run this show or what?"_

"Afraid so."

A blast of machinegun fire was heard from within the museum. Coulson pressed his com-link further into his ear. "Status Stark," he ordered.

_"Yeah. I hate to break it to you, Agent, but I don't think these guys want to schedule a meeting with you either. They're not exactly chatty and I'm running out of ideas."_

"Don't worry, Mr. Stark. This isn't-"

_"I know, I know. This isn't your first rodeo."_

Coulson just smiled in response. "And speaking of meetings, I'd like the chance to debrief you after this. You've managed to be off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar for a while which, I might add, is not an easy task."

_"Oh yeah, that. It's a doozy. Pretty daring escape if you ask me. Better than Afghanistan, even. You'll be on the edge of your seat for the whole thing."_

A small explosion rumbled from the building. Based on the calm-ish tone of Tony's replies, Coulson guessed it was probably under control in there, despite the clamor that periodically punctuated the agent and hero's conversation. But for Pepper's sake, Coulson still hoped that Stark was keeping his head down in there. "Escape from whom?" Coulson asked when the echo from the explosion died down.

_"Wasn't sure at the time, but I'm beginning to think it was these guys. Or at least, that they were connected somehow. " _

"Hmm," Coulson hummed in thought, "that explains why these 'Discarded' were so inactive while you were MIA. They had you in custody."

_"But I escaped yesterday afternoon and have been making my way back here,"_ Stark observed.

"So they're acting up again. Makes sense."

_"Yeah, well, I've just about had it with these guys. I'd like them out of my hair. So what's your call, Agent?"_

"I want you to stand down. A confrontation with you is exactly what these people want. Right now, you're our best bargaining chip. They want to talk to you? Fine, but they have to surrender all of the hostages before they get to do that. Kids first and then the adults. Then we need to get the hostiles out in the open. We've got backup for you if it comes down to a shoot-out, but I'm not interested in sending my men down a bottleneck. See if you can draw them out."

_"Yeah, about that," _Stark began skeptically. _"I seem to've left my fife in my other suit so, how exactly do you suggest I get them to follow me outside?"_

"Focus on getting the children out first, Mr. Stark. And after that? You have a unique personality. I'm sure you'll find some way to persuade them."

_"I have an offensive personality,"_ Tony corrected.

Coulson just smirked, "Like I said, I'm sure you can persuade them."

There was only a brief pause on the other end of the radio before Coulson heard a _"Roger that, Agent,"_ from the billionaire.

The scene went silent as Coulson and the other agents waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Tony stopped responding on the radio. Coulson called for updates from the unit stationed at the northern angle. Their reports seemed to suggest that the hostiles were conferring about something. That was a good sign. About two minutes after that, Stark was flying out of the building.

"All good?" Coulson asked when Iron Man landed beside him a moment later.

"We'll see," he replied. "I told them the only way I'd come back again is if they surrender the hostages. They were starting to fight with each other when I left. It looked like at least two of them were talking about letting the people go. I don't think those two want any one to get hurt...except for me, of course. They're all pretty pissed with me."

"Good work," Agent Coulson commended. "Looks like they might take the bait, then."

It was another waiting game after that. Coulson called for more updates from the unit that still had visuals through the Northern window, but all the reports were the same. The five Discarded were arguing amongst themselves, but after twenty minutes of this, the situation was escalating. Coulson was just about to consider changing tactics when the Northern unit's leader rang in his ear.

_"They're headed your way, sir."_

"Roger that," he replied.

"Sir," a junior agent called a second later, his assault rifle poised towards the museum entrance. "Hostile in sights"

Coulson looked at the entrance of the museum. Sure enough, one of the hostiles was coming into view. The fool didn't even clear the corners before exposing himself completely in the doorway. These people were clearly not trained soldiers, but they were certainly armed to the teeth. The man (who was now fully visible) was clad from head to toe in a strange metallic suit, and he held a weapon that appeared to weigh at least eighty pounds.

"Hold your fire," Coulson ordered preventively over the radio. Then, turning his head slightly towards Iron Man, he added, "Tell me about the gear."

Stark squinted at his design as his suits' AI ran the schematics. "The suit's purely defensive. Not many bells and whistles, but it's durable."

"Vulnerabilities?"

"Wherever you see skin."

"So, face. Got it," Coulson chimed, his voice making a half-hearted effort at a light-hearted tone.

Iron Man continued, "Gun's got a double barrel. Two grenades loaded in the bottom chamber, and the top fires 5.56mm automatic rounds. A single mag holds 40 rounds, and he's probably got spares. Doesn't look like he has a scope, though."

Satisfied with the report, Coulson focused his attention back on the enemy, watching as the man nervously aimed his gun back and forth until he was confident that no one was trying to shoot him.

"Where's my megaphone?" Coulson asked, holding his hand out behind him. A few seconds later, he felt the familiar plastic slipping into his hand. Pulling the trigger back, he held the device up to his mouth.

"Good morning," the agent greeted, watching how the man flinched and aimed his weapon in the direction of the noise. "On behalf of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, I order you to surrender your hostages and stand down."

"How do I know you won't just kill me if I do that?" the man yelled in reply.

"Sir at this moment, you are standing in the crosshairs of the best marksmen in the world. I can assure you, if S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted you dead, you would be dead."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" the man asked.

"We don't want to hurt you. We just want to make sure all those innocent people make it home to their families tonight," Coulson informed, the megaphone masking his voice with a scratchy, inhuman quality and glossing over every consonant with an ambiguous static noise. "Mr. Stark has agreed to speak with you if you release the hostages peaceably."

The negotiations continued for a little while, but eventually, the man passed a hesitant look over his shoulder, back towards the museum's entrance. He waved for someone to come out.

"Extraction team, move into position," Coulson ordered into the radio. A unit of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents approached the entrance and stopped at about thirty yards out, waiting to receive the hostages.

One by one, the civilians began to exit the building, hands on their heads and tears streaming down their cheeks. The children came first, three girls and five boys. They appeared to be no older than ten years old, and Coulson held his breath until each one was safe in the custody of the other agents. After that, the adults came. Coulson watched the steady stream until all fourteen civilians were safely removed from enemy hands. The extraction team quickly funneled the group behind the S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical van and around a corner to a safe location.

It was now clear to Coulson that he was dealing with amateurs. Any experienced villain would have known not to surrender the whole group. Whatever leverage these Discarded once had was now completely gone, but they didn't realize it. They were making this up as they went along. These men were just disgruntled civilians, trying to get revenge on the selfish billionaire who left them jobless. If they had handled this in any other way, Coulson might have felt bad for them. But they harmed innocent people and put their own problems above the safety of others, and Coulson didn't appreciate that. Plus, they were using unlicensed weapons technology, and that was a pet peeve as well.

"Now give us Stark!" the man demanded.

Coulson raised the megaphone to his lips once again. "Surrender your weapons, and Mr. Stark will come out."

"That wasn't part of the deal!"

"There's no reason for anyone to get hurt. Surrender your weapons and we will work all of this out."

"Fuck you, liar!" the man exclaimed, spraying a half dozen unruly shots in Coulson's direction before running back into the building.

Coulson and the other agents on the ground ducked behind the line of vehicles while the rooftop S.H.I.E.L.D. units opened fire.

"Hold your fire," Coulson ordered, and the shots subsided. "Our hostages are safe, but that doesn't mean this needs to be a kill-shot scenario. I want as many of these guys in custody as possible for questioning. Only use lethal force if necessary. Northern unit..."

_"Yes sir?"_

"Smoke 'em out."

A series of smoke grenades were fired into the building a short moment later, releasing a steady flow of toxic gases into the air. In a hurried fit, the five assailants came bursting forth from the museum, coughing and rubbing at their eyes. Coulson rapidly noted that not all of the men were clad in the same head-to-toe armor as the first, but there wasn't time for another rundown from Stark this time.

"Move in," Coulson ordered, and the two nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. units began to close in on the hostiles, ordering for them to drop their weapons and get down on the ground. Two of the men complied. But as the unit came closer, the remaining Discarded opened fire. An agent fell to the ground while the others took cover and tried to pull their comrade to safety.

"Guess that's my cue," Iron Man said, taking off into the air. His frenzied flight caught the attention of the three hostiles and they changed their aim to follow him. Iron Man targeted the weaknesses of his own designs and was quickly maneuvering the small clump of hostiles into a corner.

Just when it looked like they might have no other choice but to surrender, the largest of the men fired a small missile which lodged itself into Iron Man's breastplate. Iron Man tore the small device from his armor and threw the weapon as quickly as he could. The missile traveled about two feet out before exploding in midair and roughly throwing Iron Man backwards from the blast. Stark crashed onto the hard ground and skidded to a stop.

Coulson aimed his weapon at the cluster of assailants and fired off several shots. He incapacitated one of the men before the other two could return fire. Coulson and his surrounding agents took cover while a supporting wave of arrows whizzed down from the rooftop.

The next time Coulson lifted his head above the protection of the car, he noticed three things simultaneously: firstly, that two of Barton's arrows had taken one of the men to the ground; secondly, that Stark had managed to recover from his blast and was once more engaging the enemy; and finally, that the final hostile was opening fire on Iron Man with everything he had.

Coulson lifted his hand to his ear, intent on demanding "Give Stark some cover!" over the radio, but at that moment, he was stunned into silence.

The last of the Discarded fired a grenade from his weapon, aimed straight at Iron Man's chest. At the very last moment, Stark gave an extra jolt to his feet thrusters, boosting himself into the air just as grenade reached its target. The explosive seemed to fly past in slow motion. Coulson's gaze followed to trajectory of the grenade as it hit the street and bounced away...slipping beneath a parked Acura. Coulson's heart stopped.

"Pepper!" he whispered into the radio.

The explosion shook the ground, painting the air with harsh streaks of yellow, orange, and white as the car was catapulted into the air in a fiery cascade. The vehicle made a single turn in the air before crashing to the ground, its four wheels marred into ghastly contortions and staring up at the sky.

After that, all thought left Phil Coulson's mind.

He stood from his crouched position, fully exposing himself to enemy fire, aimed his weapon, and slowly started walking forward, towards the final assailant. Phil unloaded.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ _Bang. Bang. Bang._ _Bang. Bang._

Coulson altered his aim to follow as the enemy slumped to the ground. The agent never faltered in his steady march forward.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ _Bang. Click._

The chamber of his gun shifted open, signifying that he had run out of ammunition. It was only then that Coulson recaptured his bearings, staring down at his fallen enemy, watching the slow pool of blood expand on the pavement. Iron Man was soon landing at his side.

"Damn, Agent," he said, flipping back his mask.

Coulson didn't respond, just returned his gaze to the car. Ejecting his empty clip onto the ground, Phil broke into a full run towards the burning wreckage.

"Pepper!" he yelled as he brought his arms up to protect his face from the flames. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to grasp the burning handle and unlatch the door. He had to wrap his arm through the broken window and pull against the frame with the leverage of his elbow to force the bent metal slowly open.

He could see her inside the vehicle. Still buckled into the seat, Pepper hung upside down as she sobbed and begged for help. "Thank God," Coulson gasped when he saw she was alive. But Pepper was burned and had several large gashes on her head and body. She weakly reached a bloody hand out towards him.

"Hold on," Coulson begged, desperately struggling with the door. "Just hold on." Everything within him wanted to pull her away from that wreckage and hold her close. Deliver apologetic kisses to her and tell her he was so sorry for leaving her alone. Tell her she was safe now and he would never let anything happen to her again. And he would beg her to live.

Coulson was making slow progress on the door when he felt a heavy, metallic hand on his shoulder, roughly shoving him to the side. Iron Man ripped the door from its hinges in one fluid motion and threw it somewhere behind him. He reached inside the burning vehicle and freed Pepper from the seat, pulling her out from the wreckage.

Iron Man carried her away from the car and then stumbled to the ground with her in his arms, leaning back against the side of a building. He flipped back his mask and to no one's surprise (except maybe a few of the junior agents), there were tears in Tony Stark's eyes.

"Shhh, shhh," the billionaire soothed, stroking her hair lovingly as she leaned back against his metal chest. "I'm so sorry," he said, punctuating his words with small kisses to her head and cheek. "I'm so sorry for leaving you alone."

Pepper sobbed and moaned in pain.

"I know, shhhh. It's okay," Tony continued. "I'm here. You're safe. It's going to be alright. I won't let anything happen to you."

Phil stood dumbfounded as he watched Pepper rest in the arms of the man she loved. How he wanted to be the kisses she felt and the voice she heard. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But instead, he stood there, agape and powerless. And all he could do was watch another man say his words and deliver his kisses.

"It's going to be fine. Just stay with me, okay? Please Pep, you've got to work with me here. I need you to make it through this."

"Sir?"

The quiet voice pulled Coulson's mind away from the sunken feeling in his chest. He looked up at the same moment he noticed the soft hand placed on his shoulder, and the look on Barton's face was one of hesitant concern.

"Are you alright?" the archer asked.

Phil looked back at the wounded woman and her lover before forcefully turning his gaze away. He spun around and started walking briskly away from the scene that still played out behind his back and in the vivid detail of his mind. He wasn't sure which was more anguishing, seeing Pepper in pain, or watching Stark get to love her. Both ate at his insides in a way he couldn't describe.

"Fine," he answered gruffly as Barton quickly followed at his heels. "Get a med team here, _now_."

"They're on their way," Barton informed, still concerned for his superior officer. He had never seen the older agent act that way. Sure, Phil was always upset whenever innocents were injured, but this seemed different. Barton had never seen anything get _personal _for Coulson, but this one felt personal somehow. He had never seen him react quite like that. And he had _certainly_ never seen the seasoned agent disregard his own orders by destroying a potential capture. This was all entirely new.

But before Barton had the opportunity to question the other agent further, Coulson had slipped back into business mode. The orders were coming out of his mouth before he had even fully returned to his assembly of agents.

"I need a team in that building for a clean sweep from top to bottom. I want every closet searched, every door opened. Tell me there are _no _more hostiles in that building. Hold the perimeters until every inch of this territory has been secured. I want a complete headcount of victims and assailants, alive or dead, and everyone of the hostages needs to be on an ambulance and taken to a S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital for medical and psychiatric attention."

With every order, Coulson pointed to a new agent, who would each dutifully listen to his instruction, nod a prompt, "Yes sir!" and then hurry away to his task.

"Sir," Barton began, "Are you sure you're-"

Coulson turned his pointed finger on the marksman quickly. "Radio headquarters and tell them to clear my skies of any news helicopters. I don't want to see a camera lens anywhere near this scene unless it's got _our_ logo on it. You understand?" Phil burrowed into Barton with his gaze, silently ordering him to keep his questions to himself. There was a dead seriousness in his eyes.

Barton nodded. "Yes sir," he said softly.

Coulson kept the gaze firm for a few more exaggerated seconds, his lips pinched together in a tight frown. Then, stepping away from Barton, he lifted his voice to be heard by his whole team. "Let's get this mess cleaned up, gentlemen," he said, marching farther away from the burning car, and the woman who had been rescued from it.

* * *

There you are! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. For those of you who have been patiently waiting for Tony to make his appearance, he's finally here! And don't worry, he's in the next couple chapters as well.

Meanwhile, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I always appreciate hearing from you wonderful readers!


	12. Man to Man

Hello dear readers! Believe it or not, we're closing in on the final chapters of this story. Just one more to go! I have really enjoyed writing this story and getting to share it with you. I also appreciate all the feedback I've received on this. I hope you enjoy this chapter and, as always, be sure to let me know what you think!

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CHAPTER TWELVE: Man to Man

Coulson drew his pen across the page in a sloppy signature. It was only the fourth of several documents that needed to be signed before he could end his work day. The tired agent sighed as he thumbed through the generous pile of paperwork. This was going to be a long night. "Come in," he said when he heard the knock.

Agent Barton opened the door and stepped into the office. "I was just about to head out for the night, but Hill told me to bring you this." He reached out to place another file onto the other agent's desk. "It's the updated list of the victims from the Discarded attack a couple weeks ago. Reports from their recovery are all in there."

"Oh, good," Coulson said, flipping the new file open and instantly starting to scan the list of names, obviously looking for one in particular.

Barton watched his superior's movements knowingly. After a moment, he clarified, "She's not in there, sir."

Coulson looked up in surprise. "Who isn't?" he asked innocently.

"Pepper Potts. She _is_ the person you were looking for, isn't she?"

Coulson laid the file down on his desk, patting the open pages and smoothing his hands over them as he stammered out an answer, "Oh no, uh, I was just, you know, a standard headcount is all." That wasn't even a proper sentence, and Coulson knew it. He inwardly kicked himself for being so obvious. _Get it together, Phil,_ he chastised. A second later, he was fully composed again and in control of his expressions.

Barton just hiked his shoulders. "Since she wasn't technically one of the hostages, her name is excluded from the list. Although, the file of collateral effects from the encounter should have her information. I didn't realize that until after the victims' report had been assembled. Otherwise, I would have amended it."

Coulson nodded. "I see," he said, his tone exhibiting his customary coolness and control once again, even though something clenched at his gut when Pepper was referred to as _collateral_ anything. "It's not a problem. I am sure I can call down and get an update from one of the medical staff if I want to inquire about Miss Potts." Coulson glanced over at the phone on his desk. He didn't feel like mentioning to Barton that he had already tried a dozen times in the past two weeks to pick up that phone and call the medical ward. And he didn't feel like mentioning how he lost his nerve every time, or how he never made it past receptions. He must have hung up on at least three different nurses. He just couldn't do it. In the days following the accident, Coulson couldn't bring himself to contact her, and every day that passed made that phone a little heavier in his hand. After a while, he stopped trying.

Coulson sighed and looked down at the file, actually taking a moment to read through the names this time. These people deserved consideration too, and Coulson knew that.

"I'm kind of surprised you haven't been down to see her already." The words were coming out of his mouth before Barton really noticed they were there (that happened to him a lot), and Coulson was soon lifting his gaze up to the other agent.

Surprise registered on the senior agent's face. He wasn't so shocked by the comment itself, just that Barton had possessed the nerve to actually say it. "And why does that surprise you?" Coulson challenged after a pause. His voice was level even as his mouth displayed his customary smirk. He waited for Barton to answer, and wondered how bold the archer would be now.

"It's just been a couple weeks now," Barton began, after taking a moment to choose his phrasing. "I would have expected you to find at least one day for it."

"I haven't been to visit any of the victims from that case," Coulson pointed out.

"True, but I thought..."

The agent at the desk arched a brow.

"I just thought Miss Potts might be a unique case, considering the assignment you had before the battle."

Coulson nodded slowly. That had actually been a suitable recovery from Barton. The senior agent looked back down to his original pile of documents and swallowed once, placing his signature on another page. "Well, I've been regretfully busy as of late."

There was a slight pause as Barton quietly conceded. Then he added, "Well, in case you were wondering, she's doing better. Woke up a couple days ago and has been talking and everything."

Coulson snapped his head up to the other man again. "You've seen her?" For the briefest of moments, Phil's façade slipped and his hunger for news was evident on his face. Clearing his throat quietly, he pulled his expression back into a look of passive inquisitiveness.

Barton nodded gently.

"And...she's on the mend?" Coulson tried to let the words sound mild, like he gave her the same consideration he gave the other victims. Sincere, but not particularly attached.

Again, Barton nodded, "Yes sir."

Relief washed over Coulson's heart, but he tried not to let the waves hit his face. "That's good," he said with a nod. "I'm glad to hear it. Thank you for the update, agent." He returned his gaze to his desk as he signed another document and moved it to the back of the pile.

Barton hesitated by the door, unsure if he should say any more. But he could tell Coulson was only pretending to read the page beneath him. The man's head was slightly inclined towards the door, like he expected and wanted to hear more.

Barton couldn't say he really understood his superior in all of this. If the man cared so much, it didn't make sense that he should keep himself hulled up in his office instead of going to see her. But, the two agents had drastically different ways of handling women and relationships. Why should this case be any different?

"She's been asking about you," Barton informed a moment later.

Coulson's jaw clenched slightly and his pen trailed off of the page in a moment of clumsy penmanship. He wasn't sure if he was glad or anxious to hear that. "Oh really?" he asked, again in a painstakingly controlled tone. "Perhaps I should send her some flowers or something."

Again, Barton hesitated. _The hell you should_, the marksman replied inwardly. Now Coulson was just being ridiculous. The younger agent was about to voice as much, but for one of those rare moments in Clint Barton's life, he thought before he spoke. Coulson was not the sort of man to wear his heart on his sleeve, with anything. The fact that he was this transparent about a woman meant that the situation was serious enough to elicit the change in the agent's careful personality. Clint wasn't sure how Coulson had managed to stay away from the woman for so long, but he obviously felt the need to keep his distance. And that need was probably connected somehow to a particular genius who spent his free time in a red and gold suit of titanium alloy. Barton knew his superior was in a tight spot, and the man didn't deserve to be ridiculed in that moment.

Barton sighed. "Look...maybe it's none of my business, sir, but...I think she would probably welcome a visit."

Coulson paused, his pen poised above the next awaiting signature line. He tapped the end of the writing utensil into his other hand and twisted it thoughtfully back and forth in his fingers. Personally, he didn't know if he could handle seeing Pepper right now. He still remembered what his own voice felt like in his throat as he ordered her to _"stay in the car, Pepper."_ It was a miracle that car hadn't become a coffin to the poor woman, and the look on her face as she wailed and reached a desperate, bloody hand towards him was still an image that visited him every night. Seeing her in a hospital bed, knowing he sent her there...it just might be too much for him.

And what could he possibly say to her? "I'm sorry?" While that was certainly true, Coulson was equally certain that it wouldn't be enough. Even if he said it a thousand times and in a thousand different ways, he knew he almost killed her, and "I'm sorry" could never redeem that mistake.

Coulson sighed deeply and looked back up at Barton, realizing for the first time that he still hadn't given the other agent an answer. Coulson forced a smile, and wondered if the tears were visible in his eyes yet. "Maybe," was all he could say.

Barton solemnly nodded and then backed out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Coulson dropped the pen noisily onto the desk and dropped his face into his hands.

* * *

Two days later, Coulson couldn't explain what had finally driven him to this point, standing in an elevator, a bouquet of white daisies in his hand, descending the four floors to the medical ward of S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarters; but as the elevator bell chimed, he knew it didn't matter what compelled him. He was finally there. It was time to do this.

When the doors whished open, two of the nurses at the receptions desk halted their conversation briefly to look up and see who it was. Suddenly aware of how he must look, Coulson let his arm drop by his side, allowing the flowers to hang upside down haphazardly by his leg. He knew most of these people, having been in and out of the operation and recovery rooms himself more times than he'd care to count, and he didn't want any of the medical staff getting a false impression about him and Pepper. He had to try to pull this visit off _without_ looking like a boyfriend.

He waltzed up to the desk as casually as he could and drummed his fingers on the counter, flashing a restrained smile at the two ladies.

"Agent Coulson, what can we do for you?" the blonde asked.

"I'm looking for Miss Potts' room?" he inquired, wondering if he should try to give an explanation. But before he could add anything, the blonde was already answering him.

"Oh, of course," she said, typing Pepper's name into the computer.

There was something about the way she had said "of course" that Coulson didn't really like. But he thought it would make it worse if he protested too much. The nurse gave him the room number and soon, Coulson was walking down a familiar hallway.

As he drew closer to room 218, Coulson felt the pit in his stomach grow heavier. He was hopeful that she would be asleep and he could just quietly leave his flowers for her to find. He had tried to rehearse something to say to her, but none of his attempts did justice to what he wanted to express. But that was fine. He would be satisfied if all he got to do was look at her and see that she was okay.

The door to room 218 was open, and as Phil traveled farther down the hallway, he could see Pepper's hospital bed come into view through the doorway. His heart beat a little faster and a small smile of relief graced his face as he saw her for the first time in weeks.

She was asleep. There was a breathing tube in her nose and several IVs attached at her arms. Her face was still slightly bruised, but Phil could see her chest rise and fall in healthy breaths. There was color in her cheeks, and the heart monitor by her bed let out the occasional, reassuring beep. She was alive.

Coulson approached the doorway and his smile dropped as a second figure came into view in the room. A tired and disheveled Tony Stark was keeping vigil by the bed, leaning forward to rest his mouth against his fisted hands. He watched her, steadily. He didn't blink. He looked to be about twenty years older than he actually was, sleep deprived and distracted from everything in the world, except Pepper.

The seat Tony filled was one that came with a heavy burden of worry, and the man was shrinking beneath it. Gone was the rampant partier who took spur-of-the-moment trips to Atlantic City. Gone was the successful billionaire who had more money than Midas and was not shy about flaunting it. And gone was the national hero who was well on his way to privatizing global security. No, this man was broken. There was a depth in his eyes that was rarely seen there. He was desperate. He was afraid. He was in love.

Coulson gulped once at that realization. There, in front of his very eyes, was a man in love. Coulson had struggled in the past to see Tony Stark as anything more than a professional asset, a mild acquaintance, or a source of personal aggravation. But the agent recognized the look in Tony's eyes now. That was a powerful look. Coulson had seen it in the mirror once or twice before, and it spoke volumes. A good man knew to respect such a look, and Coulson was a good man.

Pepper started to stir in her sleep as something got caught in her throat. She was thrown into a fit of coughs, her brow caving into a scowl from the discomfort of the involuntary movements. Coulson instinctively moved closer, but halted when he saw that Tony was handling it. The billionaire was on his feet in an instant and reaching a hand to the back of her head as she struggled to cough away the disturbance.

"Shhh, shhh easy," Tony soothed, helping her sit up slightly and grabbing a nearby paper cup. "Here you go sweetheart, take a drink." Cradling her head gently, he tipped the cup against her lips and helped her take a tiny sip of water.

The water seemed to help and Pepper was soon calming down again, having never even opened her eyes. He laid her against the pillow again, tenderly stroking the backs of his fingers across her forehead. "There you go. That's it. Now try to sleep a little more, okay?" He drew his fingers across her cheek and Pepper nuzzled into them gently, giving a small nod.

"Okay," Tony replied. "I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Coulson stood in the doorway, unable to move. It was the most sincere he had ever seen Tony Stark, and the tone in his voice was so totally honest. Coulson believed him. He believed that he wouldn't go anywhere. By the looks of it, Tony had already spent many days and nights by that bed, but the meaning of that promise went beyond the literal. Tony truly wanted to take care of Pepper, and Coulson was caught off guard by how relieved he was to realize that.

The agent looked back at Pepper as she drifted further back into her medicated slumber. There was still a part of Coulson that wanted to be her hero, wanted to be the one to take care of her and love her and keep her safe; but there was another part that felt the guilt he had predicted, seeing her lying in that hospital bed. He had tried to protect her once before, and this was where it had brought her. Watching Stark deal with her now, in the uninhibited honesty of assumed privacy, Coulson was able to see how this man, for all him pomp and childishness, truly did love Pepper Potts. He would take care of her, perhaps even better than Coulson himself could. That thought was humbling to the agent, but also strangely encouraging.

Convinced he had seen enough, Coulson quietly started to back away. But something about the movement suddenly caught the peripheral eye of the man by the bed and Tony looked up sharply. Coulson was caught. He smiled in greeting.

"Agent Coulson," Tony whispered, standing from his seat and walking around the hospital bed to extend his hand towards the agent. "Appreciate you coming. She'll be excited to see you."

Coulson stepped into the room and shook the other man's hand. "I just came to drop these off," he whispered in reply, lifting the flowers into view. "But it looks like someone already beat me to it, or...several someones." He hadn't noticed them before, but the room was littered with flowers and balloons. They ranged in size and variety, but each display was beautiful and they painted a pleasant fragrance onto the air of the hospital room.

Tony nodded and turned to look at the many vases. He pointed at each of them and started to identify the senders, "Happy. Rhodey. The mayor. Congressman Ryles. District attorney. _My_ attorney. VP. A couple others."

Coulson's brows rose subtly. All of the sudden, his modest bouquet of daisies felt piddling amongst such grand presents. He looked down at the fist full of flowers. "Well," he said, "I didn't think to get a vase."

Tony glanced again to the various other arrangements and was soon grabbing the bouquet from the Vice President and throwing it in the trash. Once again, Coulson's brow climbed in surprise at the gesture.

Stark saw the agent's reaction and quickly explained, "They were almost dead anyway." Then he grabbed the daisies from Coulson and motioned to the chair he had vacated. "Have a seat," he said before taking the vase and flowers into the connected bathroom to get fresh water.

Coulson stayed where he was standing but turned his attention to the woman in the bed, content that their quiet conversation had not seemed to disturb her sleep. "How is she doing?" he asked when he heard Tony return from the bathroom.

"Better," the man answered, walking gingerly over to the bed to place the new bouquet on the nightstand by her head. "The burns were superficial. She has a couple cracked ribs and suffered from a concussion early on, but that's better now. She broke her clavicle, hip, and fractured her shoulder so she's probably looking at a couple months of physical therapy once she gets out of here, but the doctors say she should make a full recovery."

Coulson grimaced at the list of injuries. "How's the pain?"

Tony turned back towards the agent, noticing how the other man kept his eyes fixed on the sleeping woman. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Stays at bay mostly...as long as the medication keeps up. For the first couple days, I think she was probably higher than I ever got in '92, and that's sayin' something."

Coulson acknowledged the joke with a quiet burst of breath, the smallest effort one could make towards a laugh. He looked over at Stark and noticed for the first time that he had been staring at Pepper. He also noticed that Tony had noticed. Coulson cleared his throat mildly and tried to wipe the concern from his face.

Tony slowly walked closer. "You know, Pepper told me what you did."

Fear struck Phil's heart as he tried to decipher what that meant. Of the two things that instantly leapt to mind, neither one was particularly thrilling. He was certain Tony either meant that she had told him that Coulson had been the one who brought her to the scene and ordered her to stay in the car, or that she had told Tony about the kiss. Coulson wasn't sure which one scared him more.

As Tony closed in on Coulson's personal space, the agent leaned back on his heals subtly, trying to preserve the distance that was quickly diminishing. Tony Stark was a valued asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. and because of this, Coulson would not be permitted to act against him if Tony were to pick a fight. In the blink of an eye, Coulson calculated his options and the dozen or so ways this could play out. He needed a tactic to subdue the other man if necessary, but also knew that he would not be permitted to hurt him at any point in the process. In the end, Tony's actions were faster than Coulson's calculations.

Coulson hated to admit it, but he flinched a little when Stark's hand suddenly rose. Instead of striking him though, the hand landed on the agent's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I want you to know that I really appreciate you letting her stay with you like that."

Coulson exhaled in relief and just nodded his head in reply, trying to produce words. "It wasn't a problem."

"The whole time I was captured by those nut-jobs, all I kept thinking was 'I hope Pepper is alright.'" Tony shook his head gently as his mind was taken back to that time.

Coulson waited. He had heard the stories before in Stark's debriefings, and so he knew what was flashing through the iron man's mind at that moment, but he let the scenes quietly play out.

Eventually, Tony made eye contact with the agent again and concluded, "Knowing that she was with a guy like you would have taken a lot off my mind."

"Well," Coulson began, wondering how he could respond without tipping his hand. "You're perfectly welcome. It was my pleasure." That was deceptively truthful, but Coulson wasn't going to dwell on it.

"I've gotta be honest with you agent, when I first met you, I thought you were a little, uhh..." Tony wobbled a hand indecisively and laughed a little as he struggled to think of the word, "...you know."

Coulson narrowed his eyes and smiled hesitantly at the other man, letting a small laugh echo from his own lips. He nodded his head a little, even though he had no idea what Stark meant.

Tony continued. "But after I saw the way you took out that guy at the museum, and hearing how Pepper practically swears by you now, I'm sold. As far as government suits go, you're not so bad, Agent Coulson."

Tony slapped the man's back firmly and Coulson stepped forward to keep his body from rocking off balance. "Well thank you," he said, straightening his tie and smoothing out his jacket absently. He felt he should return the sentiment somehow. Allowing himself the opportunity to look back at Pepper, he knew what he had to say. "You know," he began, "It was a real pleasure getting to know Miss Potts for those couple of days, and if there was one thing that stuck out through the whole experience..." he looked back at Stark and tried to keep his emotions out of his voice, "it was that...she really thinks the world of you."

Tony seemed touched by the comment, even though he tried not to show it. The billionaire looked back at the woman on the bed and smiled at her. Was he fighting back tears? Coulson couldn't tell. But there was something restrained about him. He was clearly moved. "Yeah, well," Tony's voice scratched out, "She's never really had good taste."

Coulson smirked knowingly at the other man. Modesty coming from the great Tony Stark. Who would have thought?

The moment was interrupted by a soft moan coming from the woman on the bed. Pepper started to stir with a smooth intake of breath. She was waking up.

"Well," Coulson whispered, shuffling on his feet and starting to back away. "I should probably get back to work."

"No, no, don't be ridiculous. She's just waking up"

Coulson breathed in to protest, but Tony was already at Pepper's side, coaxing her awake.

"Pep? Pep, wake up. Look who's here."

Coulson glanced quickly to the door and wondered how weird it would be if he just made a break for it. But before he could budge, Pepper's eyes were opening and were soon on him. Coulson smiled weakly.

* * *

Just a little cliffhanger to take you into the final chapter. ;)

You know, I really love Tony. And I think that sometimes, especially in fanfiction, his playful/goofy/snarky side usually dominates the story. But I also think he's a really tender guys sometimes. We see the way he is with Pepper in IM3 and when Stane threatens her in IM1 and it's clear that Tony hates to see Pepper in peril. There's a soft spot reserved in Tony Stark, and it seems to be reserved in Pepper's name. So, in this chapter, I really wanted to show that side of Tony. Not the arrogant, mischievous side, but the side that Coulson got to observe from that doorway.

So I'm anxious to hear what you guys thought of this chapter. Let me know in the reviews!


	13. And it Closed with a Click

Alright you guys, here's the last chapter! I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Pepper's eyes lit up when she saw him, a warm smile gracing her face. Coulson couldn't help but smile too. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he was certainly pleased that she seemed so glad to see him. Pepper tried to sit up a little straighter in her bed, pulling herself fully awake.

Coulson gave a little nod in greeting. "Miss Potts," he said.

"Agent Coulson," she echoed.

Coulson was relieved when she addressed him with an equal sense of formality. For once, he didn't feel like he was being unfair to her by calling her that. They were both heavily aware of Tony's presence in the room, so their titles were adjusted accordingly.

"I was beginning to think I wouldn't hear from you," Pepper observed, her voice slightly scratchy from her sleep, but otherwise strong and healthy. Coulson noted this with pleased satisfaction.

But there was also shame that came with her quiet accusation, and Coulson grimaced mildly at it. "I know. I'm sorry," he said. "I fell into a busy period in the last couple of weeks. I would have come sooner if I'd had the time." That was a lie. He had had the time, and still didn't come. But as a secret agent, he was good at lying when he needed to be.

Pepper nodded a little, "Well...I'm glad you finally came."

Coulson smiled and nodded as well. "So am I."

A moment passed between the two as they quietly smiled at one another and let their nods fade away.

Tony scowled slightly at the exchange. It was suddenly like he wasn't in the room anymore, and there was some unnamable thing passing between their eyes that the genius found unnerving. "Even though..." Tony began, once the silence had stretched past the point of comfort, "neither of you seems to have much to say."

Coulson and Pepper both laughed a little as they were successfully pulled from their brief reverie. Pepper looked over at Tony and he forced a smile, pretending to find it just as humorous as she and the agent apparently did.

"Of course, how stupid of me," Coulson conceded in self-reproach, "Are you feeling any better, Miss Potts?"

Pepper gave a miniscule shrug of her shoulders and Coulson was quickly reminded of her broken clavicle. Considering the circumstances, he was impressed she could even sit up comfortably. "Some days are better than others," Pepper answered. "But I've had more good days than bad days recently, wouldn't you say?" she directed the last part of the conversation towards Tony.

The man by her side nodded in answer, reaching out to rest his hand over Pepper's. "You've been awake more and have found an appetite again so yeah, I'd say you've had some good days lately."

Coulson watched Tony's movements closely, confident that they were made for his benefit. If the motion was meant to project a message of staking claim (which it undoubtedly was), then the message was received loud and clear. Coulson looked the other man in the eye and nodded knowingly. A silent man-conversation passed between those eyes.

_"Should I feel threatened?"_

_"Not by me."_

_"Good, because she's mine."_

_"I know."_

Outwardly though, the only words that came out were from Coulson, saying "Well, I'm glad to hear you're on the mend."

Pepper watched the strange exchange with a feeling that was somewhere between fascination and concern. She could see that something was happening, but didn't have the fluency to interpret it. It was like she was watching a muted television and realizing she was pathetic at reading lips.

"Yes," she finally said, "and speaking of appetites...sweetheart?" she asked towards Tony, effectively pulling him from his non-conversation with Coulson. "Do you think you could find me something to eat?"

"You're hungry now?" Tony asked, his voice rising in approval. He found himself getting excited every time she could eat another meal and keep it down.

Pepper nodded. "Nothing too big, but maybe a soup or something?"

"Yeah, you bet," Tony said, standing from his seat and bending to place a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be right back."

As he passed, Tony left a steady gaze on the agent. It was the kind of gaze that told a person to behave, and Coulson just smiled and politely stepped out of the way as Tony headed to the door.

Coulson let his focus linger on the doorway a little longer after the other man had disappeared, knowing that looking back would reveal a different Pepper, a personal Pepper...and he wasn't sure if he was ready to see her.

"Phil?" came her quiet call.

Phil sighed and let his gaze drop for a moment. Finally, he looked at her, seeing concern in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head gently, like he had no words to say what he wanted to say. "I'm just so sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

Phil gestured broadly to the hospital bed and the various monitors that were connected to Pepper, "For all of this."

Pepper gave him a stern, cross look. "All of _this_...had _nothing_ to do with you," she shook her head as she said the words slowly, trying to make sure he heard every one of them.

Phil huffed in frustration and started counting his offenses on his hand, "_I'm_ the one who drove you to the scene. _I_ parked the car in that spot. _I_ told you not to move under any circumstances. I did everything but fire the damn grenade at you, Pepper."

She held up a hand. "Stop, just stop, Phil. You did not do this to me. Please believe me when I say that I have never once blamed you for any of this."

Phil sighed again and turned away from her, looking out the small sliver of window that was visible between the partially closed curtains. The city lights shimmered in the night. He wanted to go out and be among them, take a long walk. But the quiet voice of the woman on the bed pulled him back.

"Come here," she said.

He couldn't disobey. With a heavy expression, he turned back to her and approached the bed.

"Sit."

Coulson pulled Tony's chair closer to the bed and dropped himself into it. Pepper held out her hand and Coulson just looked at it, unable to keep the tiny smile from tugging at his lips. He took her hand and clasped it with both of his.

"I honestly don't believe you did anything wrong. Okay? That's the disclaimer." She took in a deep breath and then said, "But I forgive you for driving me there, and parking where you did, and I forgive you for telling me to stay there."

It was like the weight of a planet was lifted from his shoulders at her words, and he smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome."

His smile grew until the twinkle was back in his eyes, and that made Pepper smile in return. She lifted her hand out of his grasp and stroked two fingers across his cheek, touching the happy wrinkles by his eyes affectionately. Phil let his gaze drop and he leaned ever so slightly into the caress, the smile slowly fading from his face as he relaxed. His jaw clenched beneath her movements as he resisted the urge to bring her hand to his lips for a kiss.

When he returned his gaze to her, Pepper saw that familiar look in his pale blue eyes, the look that sent a flutter to the pit of her stomach and made her heart race a little faster. She looked down at his mouth, and suddenly, two weeks felt like yesterday.

But it wasn't yesterday. And today...things were different.

She broke away from his earnest eyes and let her hand drop from its tender placement. "Listen, Phil...Tony and I-"

"I know," he interrupted. There was no malice or hurt in his voice, but it was deep and heartfelt all the same.

"I know you know but, I just need to say it," she looked back at him, "for my own sake."

Coulson nodded understandingly, giving her the permission she was requesting.

Pepper sighed as she tried to select the words to use. "Being with Tony these past couple of days...No, wait...not there..." Pepper brought a thoughtful hand up to her own mouth to stop her words. She carefully began again. "That night..."

Without any more frame of reference, Phil's mind flew instantly to the exact moment they kissed. Something tingled in his spine at the memory.

Pepper continued, "Afterward...you acted like...you were at fault somehow. Like you made some huge mistake. But I want you to know that..."

He waited as she discovered her words.

"It didn't come out of left field, Phil. We _had_ something that night, something real. And it had been building up for _days_. At least...it had been for me."

"Yeah," Phil replied quietly. "Me too."

She looked at him and they both quietly nodded, sharing a mutual moment of common ground.

Eventually, she huffed and looked away from him, bringing her hands up to clasp her head briefly. "I swear Phil, so many things about you and me just make sense. It's just..."

"You're involved," he finished.

"It's the timing, Phil," Pepper restated. She gestured vaguely between the two of them, "If this had played out a year and a half ago, things would be so different. We would be so perfect."

"Yeah," he conceded, shaking his head gently and pinching his lips together in a small frown. "We would be perfect. But 'being with Tony these past few days'..." He led her into the conclusion she started earlier. At this point, the conversation was for her. He had already heard this before, in the countless times he had played through this conversation in his head.

Phil wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was an expert in analysis. He knew what to expect from this conversation even before he set foot in the elevator to come down here. Still...he had to admit, there was something reassuring about hearing her say the words herself. There was a side of him that wondered if he had been reading her wrong during those days and nights they were together. But hearing her say that the connection was real and it wasn't just in his head? He wasn't going to lie: that felt good.

Pepper sighed and tried to refocus herself back onto Tony. She smiled a little, despite herself, when she recalled the tender care he had been showing her over the past several days. "It's taken me a while to realize this but, with Tony... knowing that I almost lost him and that he almost lost me...it's made me realize how very important he is to me. I mean..._very _important, Phil."

Again, he gave a small nod.

Pepper went on, "I truly think there's something special between the two of us now and, I'm not willing to jeopardize that by leading another guy on...even if that other guy _is_ really fantastic."

Coulson bowed his head and breathed out a small chuckle at the compliment.

Pepper smiled too, a little sadly. "And...it wouldn't be fair to you if I didn't just say that plainly."

"I know," Coulson repeated quietly, nodding his head in soft revelation. "I think I've known that all along."

Pepper wanted so badly to reach out and touch his cheek again, but she kept from it this time. She knew her words just now had lost her that privilege, and that was something she was just going to have to live with. Still, she felt she had to comfort him in another way. "You're an incredible man though, Phil. You're strong and sexy, a _really great_ kisser, and so sweet and just-"

Even as her words began, Coulson was already protesting and shaking his head. "No, it's fine, Pepper— _Pepper_..." her words finally stopped. He smiled at her and shook his head again. "It's fine. You don't have to make me feel better. Honestly, I was going to say-"

"I called Happy," Tony interjected, waltzing back into the hospital room and returning his phone to his pocket. "He's bringing you some soup from Sporeli's because, let's be honest, S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria food stinks. No offense, agent," Tony paused when he noticed Coulson had taken his seat. "Sorry. Am I interrupting something?" The man was clearly not apologetic, but his imitation of remorse was passable.

"Not at all." Coulson answered, standing from his short-lived place at the lady's side. "I was just telling Miss Potts that I should get back to work."

He looked back at Pepper for a brief moment. "I'm very glad you're feeling better," he said softly.

There was so much more communicated in his voice than what those few words could convey, and Pepper suddenly found herself getting choked up when she realized he was saying goodbye. She stumbled to form a response, but nothing came.

He smiled at her the same, genuine smile with which he had greeted her for their meeting all those weeks ago. And then he pulled himself away from the bed and went to join Tony on the other side of the room. He drew his jacket closed casually and fastened the button.

"She's all yours," Coulson said, clapping the other man lightly on the back. The phrase had a dual meaning, and all three people acknowledged its weight to varying degrees. Just before he had exited the room, Pepper's voice finally reclaimed its skill and called after him.

"Agent Coulson, wait."

Phil paused in the doorway and turned around, looking back at Pepper and waiting expectantly.

She vaguely shook her head and hiked her shoulders. "What was it you were about to say to me?"

Coulson paused again and glanced once over at Tony. He struggled to choose his words. Finally, in a moment of inspired clarity, he looked back up at Pepper and smiled. "I was just going to say that, after looking over my book collection, I think it will be good if I try to keep the creases out of the pages for a while."

Pepper breathed out a small laugh as a smile flooded her face. Tony crinkled his brow at the odd comment, but Pepper knew exactly what Phil was saying. What was clearly a cryptic message in Tony's ears made perfect sense to her, and the smile she sent towards the agent at that moment was both sweet and sad at the same time. "Not for too long I hope?" she asked.

Coulson smirked and bobbed his head a little to the side in consideration. "Well, for a time. But not forever."

"Good."

Satisfied, Coulson gave one more unabashed smile to her. "Goodbye, Miss Potts."

"Goodbye, Agent Coulson."

He nodded once towards Tony, "Mr. Stark."

Tony gave a little wave, "Agent."

And with that, Coulson left the room, stopping just long enough to close the door behind him, knowing that he was closing a door between them in more ways than one. And this time, it was for good.

THE END

* * *

There you have it. I am excited to hear what your thoughts were on this final chapter and/or the whole story. So be sure to let me know what you think in the reviews. I really enjoyed writing this story and sharing it with all of you. Once again, a big thank you to kaheels for her encouragement and eagle-eye in editing this chapter, as well as all the rest of the story. And a HUGE thank you to all of you fabulous readers. I appreciate you sticking it out through this story, despite the awkward updating schedule. I especially wish to thank you if you originally had your doubts about this story but saw it through to the end anyway. I knew I was dealing with an unorthodox pairing here, but I hope the story didn't end up devastating anyone in spite of that. You guys are the best and I have really enjoyed writing this story for you.

All the best,

Monker


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